Bleeding Hearts
by troubadour12
Summary: Since there's quite an invasion of Ian/Amy romances here, I'd like to add my own. I have belief and hope that this pairing will survive. If not...well...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! It's set after the Sword Thief. And...you'll see if you read!
1. Chapter 1

"_Ian, are you even paying attention?"_

With a jolt, Ian shook his head, as if he could erase the look in Amy's face when he and Natalie had left her, Dan and Alistair entombed at the Pukhansan._ Fool! _He chided himself angrily. _Stop it! She was just a tactic, not your girlfriend!_

He turned his attention to his scowling sister, who didn't look as beautiful as usual when she did that. It was like staring at a smaller, feminine version of himself. But, gorgeous and lovely as she was, with cartloads of common sense like Natalie always claimed, she was still a bit foolish. Ian had been embarrassed enough for her actions during the alliance. "Yes, Natalie?"

Natalie crossed her arms in front of her white silk dress with Oriental embroidery and draped her luxuriant black hair over one shoulder. "There is _no_ Lake Tash at Kyrgyzstan," she told him through clenched teeth. "It was one big joke."

Ian felt his blood run cold. Had it all been a lie? Had he endangered Amy's life for nothing? No-_stop thinking about her!_ He forced himself to view the matter through the 39 Clues. This was a huge setback. They wouldn't be able to move on to the next Clue-and they hadn't even known the second Clue! The pilot of their private plane was eyeing them uncertainly, not sure whether to laugh or if they were deadly serious about Lake Tash.

"Um," the pilot cleared his throat uncomfortably, "I might be mistaken, of course. Perhaps I just haven't heard about it…" His voice trailed off. His hands were twisting and untwisting nervously, and he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing imperceptibly.

"Well, do a check on it or you're fired!" Natalie snapped furiously. She couldn't _believe_ this. She had thought they were one step ahead of those Cahill orphans, but it turned out that _they_ had been one step ahead of the brilliant, rich Kabras. _We never lose! _She shouted at herself mentally. _Especially not to those destined for the poorhouse!_

Everyone thought that this was just another adventure to them, this contest that old Grace Cahill instituted, the 39 Clues. But this would catapult the Kabras to even greater glory, to prove that Natalie and Ian were _even more_ clever than their parents, to prove their worth to their branch, to show them that they weren't just riding on their parents' coattails, that they had talents of their own.

Natalie glanced at her brother. Ever since the alliance with Alistair Oh and those charity cases, Amy and Dan, he had never been the same anymore. Yes, the making-Amy-fall-in-love thing was a surefire plan, an excellent strategy. But Natalie knew something even Ian wouldn't admit to himself, and their parents would loathe.

It wasn't just Amy who had fallen. Ian did, too, consciously or not. Ironic, predator and prey. Emotion for emotion. My pain for your pain. Isaac Newton had been right when he had invented the Law of Interaction. But it didn't hold true only for objects. It was the same for feelings.

She seethed. Daniel Cahill was going to pay, for lying to them, for making them look like fools in front of their lesser subjects, but most of all, for having a sister that had left such a huge impression on her brother.

Soon enough, that thirst for revenge would be quenched.

Amy leaned throbbing temples against the cool, plastic window always present in airplanes, trying desperately to forget those painful memories. She had won over Nellie on the fight for the window seat. She had needed some space, some alone time.

Since that cave-in back in Korea, she had felt dead. First, Ian had betrayed her. And then, their only real ally ever, Uncle Alistair, had died, only to reappear mysteriously.

It was too much.

Uncle Alistair was behind her. He had been cursing himself for exposing them to unnecessary danger just to retrieve a Clue he had already known, which he could just have told them about. Most of all, he was angry at himself for allowing the alliance with the Kabras to occur, which led to Amy's first heartbreak, and finally, to her slow death within. She was there, but not really around. It had worried them, but they knew better than to comment upon it. It would just hurt her even more.

Amy's green eyes stared out as the landscape faded away, only one name on her lips.

_Ian…_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Never did Amy think that anything could make her as surprised as she was right now. It beat that time Dan brought a rat home, and she came upon him training it with a tiny wooden sword. Or when his water balloons, meant for the kid next door, hit her in the face instead.

It had been a long day. They'd changed flights what felt like a thousand times to her, in order to reach their destination _and _get away from spies who could be tailing them. Thank goodness they'd finally stopped to rest at a hotel.

They'd just finished their transaction when one of the receptionists, a dark-skinned lady, leaned forward, confusion in her eyes, but kept on her friendly smile anyway. She handed Amy a small gift-wrapped package. "Amy Cahill, right?" she confirmed. Numbly, Amy nodded, holding the package in her hand like it was acid slowly eating through her skin, but she couldn't summon the right reaction.

The moment they were out of earshot, Dan pounced on her like a hungry cat. He was in his element now, though he'd been dragging his feet and complaining a while ago. This was not something Amy enjoyed. "Throw it away," he suggested, then turned around with suspicious eyes, scanning crevices and the people walking behind them. He turned back to her. "It might be a bomb."

Amy rolled her eyes, exasperated at the way he acted. _She _was supposed to be the cautious one, the one afraid of her own shadow. The world was strange sometimes. "Maybe that's what you need. An explosion that would shock your brain, enough for it to finally _work_," she shot back.

"If it's not working, I'd be dead by now," Dan reminded her smugly, burrowing into the only loophole he could find. "Besides, _you_ might need it. It just might be your chance to lose your baboon face!"

Amy smacked his shoulder, hard. "Then maybe you're a zombie. I mean, you're a dweeb with no common sense _or _feelings."

Dan scowled. "Hey, if this is about what I said when Ian Kabra dumped you, I'm sorry. Look, I was angry at him, okay? Do you think---"

"Doesn't change the fact that you called _me_ dumb," Amy grumbled, interrupting him. "Besides, he _didn't _dump me. It's not as if I'm his girlfriend or anything. And this is not about Ian _Cobra_." Saying his name sent a shiver of hate down Amy's spine. But there was something else, which was a hundred-no, a _million_- times greater than the revulsion she felt. Longing. Love. Something on the fringes of obsession. This wasn't just some completely random crush. She couldn't help looking over her shoulder, hoping to see his face _somewhere_, finding her like she was finding him, to tell her that he---

That he _what_? Loved her? Ridiculous. No, not ridiculous. _Impossible._ Ian could never love anybody. Except for himself. How did that saying go? Me, myself, and I? That was all that mattered him. _Me, myself, and I. _Amy tried to keep that in mind.

Dan went to the bathroom as soon as they'd found their room. Uncle Alistair sighed, turned on the TV, and lounged on the couch, tired out. Nellie plopped on an armchair, singing an off-key rendition of what sounded like Red Jumpsuit Apparatus's "No Spell." Amy wasn't sure. She sat on one of the two king-size beds, stopping only to take off her shoes.

It probably wasn't a good idea to do it here. _If _the package_ did_ explode in flames, it would spread faster, because bedclothes catch fire easily. But something told her that it wasn't dangerous. Only fragile.

She ripped off the sparkly wrapper, and let the ribbon fall away, amidst the bits and pieces.

A box. A velvet box. A velvet _Tiffany_ box.

Fingers shaking, she opened it up.

Glistening under the glare of lights on a bed of jade-green silk that was almost the color of Amy's eyes, was a solid gold chain. Suspended from the chain was a golden heart, encrusted with diamonds, spelling out the letter A.

Amy's mind began reeling, going a mile a minute. Who could have sent her this? _Who?_ Someone rich, definitely. An unknown relative? A secret admirer who'd mysteriously guessed she would be here?

In her heart, Amy knew who she wanted it to be. But she would as soon fester in hell before _that _miracle would occur.

It couldn't be Ian. It would never happen in a hundred years.

What bothered was not the fact that Ian was such a conceited little idiot. She'd known that years ago. No, what really bothered her was the way that thought had cut through her heart, mangling it into a million tiny pieces. The glaring reality that she was nothing more than a…a…a _tool_ to him. One of the females constantly falling at his feet.

She examined the necklace, toying with it. Trying to find a logical reason why anyone would give her this.

And then she found it.

A latch, so small and camouflaged under more tiny diamonds, that it was barely noticeable. Curious, she unlatched it and peered inside.

There was a small, folded square of paper inside. Amy reached in, picked it up, and-her curiosity raging now-unfolded it.

What she read there transported her into a realm of shock.

***********

Well.

Tell me what y'all think!!!

You're not gonna find out what's in that piece of paper(though I think some of you can guess) until I get ten reviews! Dramatic of me, I know.

But…LOL! Just do it=) Hehehe…


	3. Chapter 3

_**WARNING: EXTREME ROMANTICISM AND SAPPINESS AHEAD!!!**_

_**Skip if you can't stomach this!!!!**_

_**This may have something to do with the fact that I've read 23 novels, each with romantic content, lately. And I keep listening to love songs. Or maybe it just has something to do with hormones.**_

_**Anyways, read on! Don't forget reviews! Not mandatory, this time, though.**_

CHAPTER 3

_**I'm sorry. I'm sorry for ever hurting you. I'm sorry for betraying your trust. For breaking your heart. I…want to take it all back. If I had a choice, I would have saved you all the unnecessary pain. Your hurt makes me hurt, and I can feel that ache in my chest for what I've done.**_

_**I know it may be too late. I know it may not be enough. I know you'd never believe me-and you have reason enough since I've been a traitor from the very first day we met. But please…all I ask is for you read this. For you to know. I'd gladly give what you want, just as long as you hear me out.**_

_**I love you. If you can't trust me, then I'll stay away. Please believe that. Please believe that I care for you more than anything else in the world. Please…forgive me.**_

_**Ian K.**_

The words came back, again and again, taunting and torturing Ian. It almost felt as if he'd rather walk across a bed of the hottest coals on earth, endure the heat and flames of hell, than face the weakness he'd succumbed to in the spur of the moment. It had all been so spontaneous, unplanned, a first for the Kabras. Their family _always_ planned their actions, mapped it all out, and thought about each move. And there he was, buying the necklace on a whim, as if he was being controlled by someone else. Just like he'd grabbed his gold fountain pen and a piece of paper, and written the message that had somehow crawled its way out of the cage he'd thrust it into, the very minute he and Natalie had finally tracked Amy, Dan, Nellie, and Uncle Alistair. His sister didn't suspect a thing. She was too sure of Ian's character. Or rather, his _former _one.

All his life, he'd been raised to be cold and calculating. Cruel. Distant. Unattached. It was the Kabra way, the winning way. If they'd ever gone soft, fraternized with the weak, or simply disobeyed, they had regretted it. Power was something they would willingly kill to have, and power was _so_ easily taken away. No one could afford to be distracted. But now…he was completely lost in the flood of emotions that swept through him. It was almost like…like he was under a spell. A spell that couldn't be lifted. That made him long to be with a Cahill from the lower walks of life, a Cahill that was his enemy. Ian always thought the world's mysteries made sense to the Kabras, but now, he was starting to think that maybe the Kabras were the insane ones. Because if he was supposed to be sane, why was he jealous of Daniel, Amy's brother, since the boy could be near her, be with her, protect her, all the time? Why did he see Amy's face whenever he closed his eyes? Why?!

Could he love Amy Cahill?

At once, his mind screamed its protest, shrieked out its denial, its horror, at the wayward thought. _No, no, no! That can never happen! Impossible! No!_

But that was the rational part, the practical one. The one which stayed calm and unruffled, forever standoffish. The one created by endless lessons and warnings, acts of ruthlessness, focused on one, simple goal: WIN. AT ALL COSTS.

The other part, present ever since he was born, but smothered, was incoherent, yet suddenly the stronger of the two. The one that pulled at his heart, which he'd thought for so long had crumbled to dust, had transformed to glass. That had caused it to swell to twice its size for that person who had left such a profound impact on him.

So profound that, instead of worrying that the letter might reach Amy and thus reveal his deepest, darkest secret, not to mention his parents swooping in on him if word of this ever reached them, he was worried it might _not_ make it to her, that she would never know his true feelings. Weird. Distasteful. But then, wasn't he the one who crossed the line? Still…

It wasn't a question anymore. Not a war of _should _and _shouldn't_. Because the decision had already been made right from the start, and there was no going back. No rewind. No take two. And it was final.

Too late to turn back now. And no matter how hard he would try to run away, Ian Kabra would always love Amy Cahill. First, last, always.

_**There you have it. I'm putting my foot down and shaking my head "no" to another chapter. This is officially the end, people!**_

_**Sorry if I'm so harsh=) THAT'S the reason why my classmates don't want me to be a teacher. Not that I want to be. Hehehe.**_

_**Toodles!**_

_**P.S. Sorry for the delay. My mom confiscated my laptop and I had to beg my dad to make her return it. And THEN the internet refused to work. This world is too full of problems. It's a wonder we even survive. Wish the scientists would hurry up and make Mars or something livable already!!!!!**_


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Dan was completely and utterly and irreparably unnerved. A first, for him, but if anybody saw what he was seeing now, feel what he was feeling now, they would understand.

Amy was abnormally quiet. Not that _that _was new. She always was. But it was a different, unnatural silence, that she could sit next to you and you'd never know she was there unless you looked at where she was sitting. It frightened and worried him at the same time. He'd seen her like that before, but never this bad. It was like her lips were glued together or something, and that bothered Dan. But he knew Amy would deny it as soon as he opened his mouth.

And another thing. Before they'd checked out of the hotel a while ago, around 5 o'clock am, he'd felt her get out of bed carefully, like a thief sneaking in and out of a museum for a heist to pull off. He hadn't been sure whether he should see this or not, so he'd kept one eye half-open and the other closed, so as not to alert Amy. But it was enough for him to see the glint and sparkle of a diamond-encrusted gold necklace she'd pulled out of a box. He'd moved and Amy stiffened, feeling it, hurriedly stuffed the necklace back in its container, hid it somewhere Dan couldn't see even if he'd had two eyes open wide which he wasn't willing to do, and climbed back into bed, missing his face by inches. He'd done a thorough once-over at the hotel lobby later that morning. Heck, he'd even observed her twice. But she wasn't wearing it. It would have been noticeable, next to Grace's jade necklace, which Amy hated to part with. That only made him all the more certain that whatever it was, Amy was determined to keep it a secret. Fine with him. He was just as determined to find out.

He peeked at his sister from the corner of his eye. Amy was hunched over, almost ending up on the floor curled up in a ball if the rest of her body wasn't being restrained by a seatbelt, her long reddish-brown ponytail swinging forward, reading yet another book. Uncle Alistair seemed to be inexplicably thrilled whenever he bought Amy a new book. He'd also gotten Dan a Babe Ruth 1964 and a Mickey Mantle rookie card. That was fine with him, but he didn't like the way Uncle Alistair was almost…_sucking_ up to them. He remembered his and Amy's oath to stay away from the old guys. He figured they should have signed a contract in their own blood to help them remember, because here they were, trusting some excitable old man they barely even knew with their lives. It made him feel defenseless. Vulnerable.

There was only one other person aside from their parents whom they trusted without reserve, feeling only safety in her company. Their grandmother, Grace Cahill. She was a woman of great strength and iron will, fierce in her ideals, but still capable of giving love, protection, and care to her grandchildren, to two orphans who had lost their way in this world after their parents had faded away, preserved only in pictures that had been burned to ashes, who had lost them at such a young age. She was the only one who could understand them, tolerated them, took care of them, loved them like no one else did. Every breath of her life was for them. Worldly possessions paled next to the much greater gifts she'd left Amy and Dan. She'd given them a life, a path, compassion, talents, skills, and the ability to feel, to help others. Knowledge. Hope. Respect. Care. Faith. She'd given them her all. She'd given them the world.

A tear slid unnoticed down Dan's cheek. He didn't mind it. He hadn't had a chance to mourn Grace's death, and this didn't even seem enough. All had been lost in the stampede for the Clues, the death threats, the break-ins. Grace would have been proud of them, of their courage, their wit. Amy was usually a coward, but she was uncharacteristically brave nowadays, and Grace would have wanted to see it for herself. The miracle itself taking place. Not to mention, Dan would have to admit, the fact that Amy could always figure out the next big step, always knew a little of everything. She pointed out the solutions to the puzzles and Dan solved it. They lost a Clue, Dan had memorized it. They made a great team. Maybe they wouldn't win. But what was important was that they'd given it a try.

Thinking about Grace and all their achievements that she would miss made him sad. He wanted her to be with them now, not Uncle Alistair. He wanted Grace. _Their_ Grace. He wished he had listened to her stories, paid more attention. There was so much he didn't know about his grandmother, and now, he would never have that chance.

Amy noticed her brother crying, and she felt a pang. "Dan?" she asked softly. "You okay? What's wrong?"

"Is there a problem, children?" came Alistair's voice from behind them.

Nellie didn't hear a thing.

Amy ignored them both. She focused on her little brother. "What is it?"

Dan hesitated. "Amy?"

"Yes?"

"You said that Grace went around the world, right? Did she ever get to go to Antarctica?"

Amy nodded. She knew now that her brother had been thinking about Grace. It kind of made her miss Grace, too, but she concentrated on Dan, forgot herself for a moment, and began to tell him the story Grace had shared one day when they were out on a picnic in the meadow, back when she was 11, same as Dan now.

And for once in his life, Dan listened.

_**Okay, people, whaddaya think?**_

_**Just a little request, please. I already have an outlined plot for the next chapter, but in your reviews, please include your ideas. I might incorporate them in my story! Unless of course you're planning to use it for a fanfic of your own. It's like a case of, what do ya wanna happen next???**_

_**Hang in there!**_


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Natalie's face was becoming an infestation of unsightly wrinkles, eyebags, and a pallor she'd rather not talk about. And it was all happening _so _fast.

Her butt ached from sitting down on the plane seat without pause for too long. It may have been premium, velvet-covered seats, with gold armrests, and a ton of other amenities, but now, she wouldn't have known the difference. It all felt like bristles on her skin, itches she couldn't scratch. And, needless to say, it annoyed her.

"When are they going to stop?" she demanded of her brother. Ian was handling it well. His features barely held a hint of stress and frustration, his posture was not affected by pressure, and he looked as perfect as ever. That made Natalie jealous. She wished she could say the same thing for herself, but sadly, the glamorous Natalie Kabra had turned into a vengeful harpy overnight, being forced to follow the Cahills' erratic schedules and endless parade of flights to and fro one country to another. This she could handle, could live through. After all, sacrificing one's comforts was necessary to stay ahead of the game. But she had snapped when she realized she couldn't go shopping for new clothes, and would have to be forced to wear the same outfit _twice_. Horrors!

Ian rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, unaffected by the tension that emanated from her sister in noxious waves. It made Natalie want to bash him in the head, nonchalant and relaxed as he was at every turn of events. God, he _had _to see the truth in front of his eyes! "I guess they are trying to avoid any spies, and get to their destination at the same time. I'd say they have almost succeeded. Their dizzying route has perhaps discouraged the others to stop tailing them. Who wouldn't?" He smiled wryly at his sister. "But we Kabras are a determined lot. We don't give up, do we?"

Natalie glared at him, trying to convey that she was going into hysterics inside already. Yes, Kabras were determined. And right now, she was determined to walk up to those Cahills, hold them at gunpoint, and scare the truth out of their lips. But none of these did she say, despite her razor-sharp gaze pointed directly at her brother. She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, yes, Ian. _Very_ determined," she purred.

Ian frowned, hearing the sarcasm dripping from her words. What now? It would seem that Natalie had the outstanding ability to find something unpleasant in just about _everything_. That much was said by her glaring eyes. He sighed. "Alright, Nat. What is it _this_ time?"

At once, Natalie launched into full-powered whine mode. "One, we've _hardly_ been out of this plane following those bumbling losers. Two, my bum _hurts_ from sitting down too long. Three, I didn't get to shop for clothes. And four," she gestured at her outfit, "I'm being forced to wear the same clothes _twice_!"

Ian desperately tried to stifle his laughter and taunts. Lately, he was a bit light-hearted after that message had been sent. It made him…happy to finally name his wildly fluctuating emotions. And every day only confirmed what he felt. Each time he saw Amy, his pulse thundered, but in a joyful way, a satisfied way. He relished those moments, basked in the glow. But it wouldn't do any good to mock his sister now. Ian could handle her any moment, but he'd rather not risk being told off by his parents just because his sister had gone berserk and fired her dart gun at anyone who got too close. "I once wore an outfit five times. No one really noticed," he tried to soothe her. "I didn't even know you were repeating that."

"But _I_ do!" Natalie complained. "And I hate wearing it again!"

Her brother shrugged. "Then go naked," he told her, as if that solved everything, and turned away.

"Ugh!" Natalie flicked an embroidered handkerchief at him and, not waiting for a reaction, she stood up and transferred to a different seat in an act of petulance. There she sat and sulked, arms crossed over her violet, pleated silk dress with a diamond brooch, metallic silver leather leggings, and violet suede ankle boots. She'd heard that violet was considered the 'royal' color, and had been eager to have things in that precise shade. But just now, she didn't feel too comforted by it, especially when it was on an outfit she'd worn, for goodness' sake, _twice_.

She took out the latest issue of _Elle _magazine and flipped through the glossy pages, keeping one eye on Ian. He thought she was_ that _gullible, _that _blind. Like she hadn't seen the furtive look in his eyes the day they tracked down the little, forlorn group composed of those losers, Uncle Alistair, and their too-spirited babysitter, Nella or Nita-something like that. They might have remembered each others' names during that alliance but that didn't mean it was important enough to be remembered _now_, when all that was over and behind them. They were such a pathetic group. It was a mystery to Natalie how they'd even gotten out of Pukhansan. Of course, she wasn't so stupid as to have not checked the news. Apparently, there had been an explosion-the key to their escape. Though why and how, nobody knew. Not even her.

Whatever. They were not worth dwelling on. Natalie had worse problems than that. Now that she had spilled all her frustrations, her head was cleared, and she could focus on another, much more important crisis. The crisis that involved her brother.

Ian thought she had her back turned to him all the time. That she was too wrapped up in other things to notice what she was doing. But that was where he erred. Because she was keeping a close eye on him more than he ever thought. And his actions both perplexed and bewildered her at the same time.

_Who was the letter for? And the necklace? What was inside that paper? Is he plotting something without telling me?_

She had an idea or two regarding the receiver. And then there was that very distasteful possibility that---but no. Ian may have more IQ points than common sense, but that did not mean he would be _that_ stupid. Yet when did Ian necessarily follow the rules? Plenty of times, yes. Not exact, but still they were done. However, that obedience could easily be discarded…

It made Natalie unsure, and she despised that feeling. She was supposed to be a model of confidence! Why, she could even argue the socks off any other debater during competitions! And she _always _won.

What was special about Amy Cahill? What was so…_good_ about her that turned her brother's head around? That made him unable to see reason and turn traitor to his own branch? Each day only served to increase her worry. Each day only made her uncertain what to do next. Each day led her to wander what trick her brother had up his sleeve. She had seen that look in his eyes---the look of a man who was suffering from afar because he couldn't be with the one he loved. And it _scared _her. What if one day Ian would no longer stand by her anymore? By their family? Their branch? What if one day he would be Amy's slave for good? Natalie knew this went over and beyond normal human interest. She couldn't believe it had actually come to _love._ Love! Of all the girls out there who would kill just for her brother's eyes to land on them, why this no-nothing? Why this Cahill dirt? Why this clueless orphan? Why?

Her brother was the better one between the two of them. Natalie wouldn't admit it, but she needed him. Needed him for guidance. Needed his sardonic remarks to assure her when there was nothing but doubt. Needed his strength to stand tall. She cared for him like any other sister would. And what he was doing now, throwing away everything for a mere, unremarkable mortal, was a reckless act. This_ wasn't_ supposed to happen! If only all of that hadn't occurred! If only they'd thought of another way then the course they'd taken! But Natalie couldn't do anything now. The deed was as good as done. Ian's feelings had only grown over the days, and Natalie could do nothing to stop them. Unless of course she would cut out his heart. But that would simply mean that she was going to…

She never got to finish the thought. Natalie Kabra slumped in her seat, falling asleep, under the influence of a sleeping pill that Ian had slipped into her iced tea a while ago, out of pity for his sister. Uncommon. But she was family, after all. And it would save Ian the torture brought about by her constant complaining.

*******

Alistair Oh knew a moment of panic when he saw one. They were so close to their destination, so close to the Fourth Clue, but alas, it would seem that the gods were conspiring against them. Of all the rotten luck! This had to be the time Mr. McIntyre picked up his phone and got to telling them about the recent developments. It took all of his patience and presence to calm his mind and control his temper.

He forced a smile at his companions. Not only were Dan's eyes puffy and red from crying on the plane, he was tired, and so was Amy. Saladin was languidly resting inside his cat carrier which Nellie held in her slack hands, even the teenage au pair not able to handle the stress. Alistair made a mental note to ask his colleagues for a private jet. It would save money, effort, energy, and _time,_ one thing they could not afford to waste. "It seems there is an emergency, and good old Mr. McIntyre wants us to travel to the Kabra estate in England for a meeting." His voice was falsely bright, and that made him miserable. It didn't help that Dan gave a disappointed groan, underlined by his sister's weary sigh.

"Arrgh," Dan complained. "Do we have to go through that all over again?"

Alistair knew he was referring to the constant flight changes. He shook his head. "I will ask my business associate to do me a favor and let us borrow his private jet, outfitted with crew. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's safe."

"I'm not concerned about _safe_," Nellie shot back at him. "I'm concerned about all those money we wasted pointlessly! And, aside from that, how can I be sure they won't set up a booby trap to extinguish my au pairees?!"

"Calm down, my dear Nellie. I will be there," Alistair sighed heavily.

"The last time you were around, Dan and Amy were nearly killed under tons of pelting rock. Oh, and the time before that, you were chased by crazy, demented ancient Japanese warriors. Then, if I remember correctly, you left them in the Salzburg Catacombs after you set off one helluva of a bomb. And the bitter icing on the cracked, hard cake? You left them in a burning house and stole _their_ clue," Nellie grumbled sarcastically under her breath.

"With Mr. McIntyre there, I doubt anyone would hurt the two of them," he pointed out. Nellie huffed, but she shut up.

"I hope so," Amy murmured. She desperately tried to hide the thrill she felt at the realization that she might run into Ian. But…what if those words were just that, nothing more than words? What if he didn't mean anything by them? What if, what if…

She couldn't be sure of anything. Couldn't be sure of her own feelings, of Ian's feelings. To him, love and betrayal were entirely interchangeable. And it sparked the doubt already flaring in her mind.

There was only one way to be certain. They would have to go. Amy couldn't trust him just yet. She still needed answers.

And if things went perfectly, she would have them.

******

_**The surprise is coming up-and fast! One thing's for sure-nothing is as it seems. **_

_**By the way people, thanks for tolerating me! And my completely schizo ways.**_

_**=)**_


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Nellie Gomez's ambition in life was to be a chef. But now, her mouth hanging open at the splendor of the Kabra estate, she wondered if, as an art dealer, she would be better off. Perhaps, she could persuade her father…

After a heated discussion that involved at least three jokes from Dan, which compelled Amy to tell him to grow up, at which Dan had fired a series of insults pertaining to her "dull life," making Alistair's head pound and tell them to quit arguing, they finally decided that Nellie had to come with them, too.

"I'm not so sure if I should tag along, kiddos," Nellie confessed, looking at the magnificent mansion warily as they walked toward it from the grassy spot where they had parked their car. "Sure, I'm au pairing you on your quest, but that doesn't mean everyone's gonna, like, accept me 'cause of that. I'm not a Cahill like you three are."

"You're coming with us," Amy told her firmly. "We _need_ you around, too. I mean, you can be pretty scary if you want to."

Nellie muttered something that sounded like, "Nothing seems to creep the hell out of those suckers."

"Yeah, Nellie," Dan said, bobbing his head enthusiastically, his hair flopping over his eyes. "Didn't you give Uncle Alistair a black eye once?"

Alistair winced at the memory. "That is a lethal backpack you have, dear. And Dan, if that was supposed to make me feel better, it is most certainly not working."

Dan was confused. "What do you-" he began, but Amy elbowed him in the ribs. They reversed to their silent communication. _What?_

_I'd appreciate it, dweeb, if you think about what you would say every time._ Her eyes seemed to bore holes into his.

_I am thinking,_ he protested hotly. _You think I'm an immature, delusional eleven-year-old, but I understand things more than you think!_

Amy shook her head. For a second, Dan thought she was going to apologize---until he saw what she had to say next._ I don't think you're immature,_ she corrected. _I _know_ you're immature._

_Thanks a lot!_ He grumbled, his emotions far from being grateful, or anything close to it.

_No problem, El Dweebo._

_Fine with me, prune face._

Amy's eyes flashed a burning, blazing anger, but before she could react, before Dan could think of anything to say to her for a counterattack, the porch came into view. It was teeming with their rivals, studiously ignoring each other and doing their own thing, but managing to look dangerous at the same time.

The Holts. Looking like they'd come all the way from a military academy or something to that effect, they were being whipped into shape by their fanatic of a father, who was barking out instructions for them to jog in place, then do a hundred squats. Mary-Todd Holt was trying to placate her husband, telling him to go easy on their children. But Eisenhower shook his head. "It builds endurance!" he insisted.

Jonah Wizard and his ever-present father, Broderick, were having an argument, even as his father's thumbs flew across his BlackBerry, typing out messages, probably sharing Jonah's views on the subject they were butting heads over to his sponsors and promoters.

Irina Spaksy stood a little way off, careful with her movements, uncomfortable in the abode of another Lucian. She tapped her foot impatiently, muttering words in Russian to herself. Perhaps backstabbing the others present. She had better be grateful no one spoke her language, if that was the case.

To Amy and Dan's surprise, the Starlings were present. Sinead's auburn hair flowed freely around her face, her clothes identical to her brothers'. Ned and Ted both wore berets over their hair. They didn't seem to notice the Cahills' gaze centered on them. They were involved in a conversation of their own.

Sitting on the porch swing and looking very disgusted at the presence of other people in their home, Natalie and Ian Kabra wore identical designer ware. As Amy glanced at them, Ian's head popped up, as if he had felt her presence. His gaze met hers, and his amber eyes seemed to smile, freezing her in place even as she melted. Or maybe that was just a trick of light. Amy wasn't sure. He looked as handsome and as flawless as before, his jet-black hair, dark skin, and perfect features always managing to make her stomach turn. Amy looked away, and she, Dan, Nellie, and Uncle Alistair heading to an empty spot near the railing. Nellie felt uneasy, surrounded by their enemies. But she had a whole lot of spirit, and bore it well.

Amy scanned the crowd. There was no sign of Mr. McIntyre. They had been the last to come here, that they were sure of, but still the old lawyer wasn't around. That puzzled her. Where was he? Mr. McIntyre was_ always_ on time. He was a professional, after all. But not even a ghost of his breath hung around.

She looked at her brother, leaning against the marble-and-gold railing beside her. His face frowned as he noticed Mr. McIntyre's appearance, or rather, the lack of it. _What happened to him?_ He mouthed.

Amy shook her head and shrugged. If he didn't know, how could he expect _her_ to know? It wasn't as if you'd figure out the whereabouts of a person even if you memorized a map. You'd just have to wait if he turned up.

Amy didn't know it, but Ian was watching her, observing every twitch of her body, every inclination to move.

He was disappointed to see that she wasn't wearing the necklace he'd sent. _Of course_ it had reached her. Wasn't that what the lady receptionist had said? Aside from the relentless probing if Amy was his girlfriend or a relative of some sort. He had answered that she was his relative, although the woman had wrinkled her forehead as she processed this with some disbelief. But she need not concern herself with the turn of affairs. Ian would have Amy as what that lady had so obviously expected. His girlfriend. And that would happen soon enough.

Natalie's sharp intake of breath reminded him of the role he had to play. The role of a reluctant host, with his nose turned up against the others. But it was nothing more than an act. To tell the truth, she could have asked him to slither like a snake and he wouldn't have minded. Seeing Amy was enough to raise his spirits. He was soaring through endless blue skies like an eagle, forever free, unfettered and without bonds.

******

Mr. McIntyre folded his hands over the teakwood desk in the room assigned to him by the Kabras. He still had doubts regarding the trustworthiness of the two conniving Branch Leaders, but in the long run, no one could afford to be squeamish. He smiled wryly as he remembered the words _blind faith._ The very words returned his attention to a matter of urgency.

He sized up the pair that sat shyly in front of him. He had heard of the two O'Sheas; they were the Tomas branch's leading junior agents. However, due to a stroke of misfortune, they were both detained in the hospital because of an unusual case of the flu on the day of the will-reading. Now, at this late date, they were asking William McIntyre to allow them to participate. He could not stop them. Surely, the Tomas would be after his head. And he had their sick condition to consider.

He sighed. It was, indeed, a most taxing task. Even if the O'Sheas would join, he could not give them any leads beyond the first Clue. Amy and Dan had left their competitors to choke on their dust. So far, as the race had progressed, they had obtained each of the clues involved. The two here would have to use their own resources to grope their way to the fourth Clue.

He turned his unwavering gaze at them. "Have you thought this through?" he asked. "Once I announce you as official participants of the race, there is no turning back. Your path will be a hundred times more difficult than what others had had to endure. You will have to use your own means to get the information you need." Yet theirs was not as harrowing as Amy and Dan's. Without knowing it, the two carried the burden of the Cahill clan's expectations. They were just orphans, in a room full of light one day, stuck into a tunnel of darkness the next. Nobody's hardships could ever come close to theirs.

Tristan, the older between the two, and the same age as Amy, looked at his eleven-year-old sister, Paige. Paige had a worried look on her face, and was chewing the end of her golden-brown plait nervously. Her brown eyes were orbs of worry.

Her hands trembling, she nodded. William knew that Tristan was making sure that all bridges were burned before moving on. He looked into the old lawyer's sharp, intuitive eyes. He was a fine specimen of boys, almost in the league of Ian Kabra, though McIntyre doubted that Tristan O'Shea had any violent inclinations to exterminate all his enemies. "Yes. We are sure." His answer and tone sealed the deal at last.

Mr. McIntyre stood. After a split-second's hesitation, the pair copied him. Tristan ran his hand through his sandy-brown hair absentmindedly, his brown eyes a little uneasy.

"Then it is done," Mr. McIntyre told them.

******

Dan checked his watch for the umpteenth time. They'd arrived here at 8:35 am. Now it was 10:55 am, and there was still no sign of Mr. McIntyre; not his somber-colored suit, his sharp eyes, his businesslike air. He looked around.

"Maybe he was abducted," he hissed in Amy's ear. She had taken out yet another book, and was devouring it with enthusiasm, determined not to let her gaze wander---especially not to where Ian was. But Dan didn't know that.

"Have _you_ seen their security around here?" she hissed back, eyes on the book, not even bothering to glance at him. "They have huge mastiffs and German Shepherds, and _every _two miles, there's a team of guards. You think he was abducted?"

"Don't be sarcastic," he muttered under his breath, but Amy could still hear it. "It makes your ugly and wrinkly face more…ugly and wrinkly."

Amy finally removed her attention from the book---enough to whack her brother in the head with it. "I find it hard to believe that a delusional ninja lord could be so blind. But then again, you _are_ delusional, a madman experiencing hallucinations, so I guess _that's_ an excuse. Though it won't work for me."

"Ow!" Dan yelped, clutching the side of his head protectively with both hands. "That hurt!"

Alistair, who had been leaning heavily against his cane and fighting back sleep, straightened up and blinked in surprise. Nellie, hearing the scuffle that had ensued, plucked out an earbud and marched over to the two. "Alright, who started it?"

"Amy!" Dan accused, pointing his forefinger at his sister, who was glaring at him so furiously, that it could burn through. Nellie looked at the suspect.

"What are you looking at?" Amy said, hurt showing in her tone. "_He _started it! I was just reading my book!"

Nellie stood there in front of them, arms crossed, her purple glitter eye shadow enhancing her eyebrows, which had leapt up almost to her hairline. She considered their expressions for a moment. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and pinched Dan's ear.

"Ow!" Dan cried for the second time. This brought heads swiveling to his, Nellie's, and Amy's direction. Amy barely noticed, a triumphant expression setting up shop on her face. Nellie settled herself between them, then re-plugged her loose earbud. Dan's ear was red, and his head smarted from Amy's blow. With one hand, he curled his hand over his ear, the other hand on his head. Natalie giggled.

Automatically, his eyes cast around for the source, but before he could even pinpoint anyone, Mr. McIntyre appeared, behind him two kids with golden-brown hair, perfectly-even tans, and brown eyes who could give the Kabras a run for their money. The boy was dressed in a printed blue-and-white shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and Adidas shoes. On his arms were rubber bands and ballers in neon colors. The girl, obviously his sister, wore a sleeveless yellow top, denim shorts, and Skechers, her shoulder-length hair in a single plait.

Amy thought she was dreaming. _Why were they here?_ She and Dan, as if a magnet was pulling them, looked at each other, and confirmed in each other's eyes that these persons were really who they thought they were.

"Good morning, everyone. I am sorry for being late to our meeting. Nut sometimes, one must iron out everything before passing it on," Mr. McIntyre apologized. He gestured to the two children standing uneasily beside him. "I called you here because of an important development related to the 39 Clues. These two you see here today are late entries in the contest. Although they are at a disadvantage, they still wish to join the contest. They are---"

"Tristan and Paige O'Shea," Amy and Dan blurted out together. The others turned to stare at them. Tristan and Paige followed the gazes and---

"Amy and Dan!"Paige exclaimed in surprise.

"So you're here, too, Trent?" Tristan thrust his hands in his pockets, his hair ruffling slightly in the breeze.

Everybody else gazed around them in confusion. Amy smiled, crossing her arms. "You think I'm a ghost, O'Shea?" she inquired, staring straight into Tristan's eyes.

Tristan grinned. "Yeah, I think you are. But I guess you're more of a wallflower," he admitted. "Sorry."

They watched Amy, gauging her expression, if she would rave and rant, but her smile stayed on. "You're forgiven. You _are_ my best friend, right?" She laughed and, to add to the others' shock, she walked past them and shook his hand.

Tristan was serious. "You used to be more than just my best friend," he whispered softly, so only she could hear. "And to me, you _are_ more than just my best friend."

Amy stared into the brown pools his eyes had become, remembering, remembering…back when she wasn't part of this mess. Back before Ian had turned her upside down and inside out. Back when Grace was still alive and well, and she and Dan were happy. Back when even Aunt Beatrice wasn't _that _bad. Back then, back then…

_It was a beautiful summer's day. The typical, usual things---twittering birds, lazy clouds morphing into different shapes, the wind blowing, the sun beating down hard on the ground…and we ran to the shade of a nearby tree._

_Tristan laughs as we plop down on the tree's roots. I jump back up with a cry when I felt the hardness of those roots. _

"_Sit down beside me, Amy," he coaxes, grinning, patting a spot near him, and his eyes were so gentle, so tender, that I couldn't refuse. I approach cautiously, though, and sighed in relief when I felt the softness. He placed his arm around me, repositioning me, pulling me closer to him. We were breathing hard, both from the run to the shade, and the soccer game we'd had a while ago. Aunt Beatrice wasn't picking up me and Dan for another hour. I rested my head against his shoulder, marveling at my luck. Tristan was the best boyfriend any girl could have, charming and handsome, but a gentleman all the same. It's a good thing he isn't as sensitive and shy as I am, or we'd both cower at any sign of adversity._

_He brushes his lips gently along my hair. "You know, I'm starting to think Dan's hanging around because he likes Paige."_

"_No, the little creep is trying to spy on me," I reply, smiling fondly. Dan was in all aspects any other normal boy: a boy obsessed with baseball; collecting stuff, no matter how gross; sneaking up on his older sister to tattletale what she's been doing to his despicable aunt; likes to experiment; and just happens to have photographic memory and a knack for solving mathematical problems._

_He throws his head back and laughs. He's been laughing a lot, lately. I don't join him, though I want to. I want to listen to the music of his laughter._

_He's sober again after a moment. He tilts my head up to stare at my eyes, and I wonder what he's going to say. But no, it's not what he's going to say next. It's what he __**does**__ next._

_Tristan leans over and kisses me on the lips._

Amy shakes her head, returning back to earth. Nobody noticed except Tristan, gazing into her eyes with such intensity that reminds her of all they'd had. He smiled wistfully, knowing what she was thinking. Reminiscing. Raising his voice this time, so everyone could hear, "Thanks, Amy. Knew you'd never hold a grudge."

Somebody coughed, and Amy knew it was time to step back. She gave Paige a warm smile, let her gaze linger on Tristan for a second, then returned to where her brother was. Dan looked just about ready to attack her, but before he could, Mr. McIntyre continued on with his announcement.

His sharp eyes settled on each and everyone gathered in the porch. "Another thing. According to our, um…'gracious' hosts, the increase in Madrigal sightings, or rather, _supposed_ Madrigal sightings, I should say, led the Branch Leaders to set aside their differences in order to speculate on what has to be done. And they have decided that for the meantime, we are to stay here until the go-ahead."

Sinead Starling spoke up. "But Mr. McIntyre, what if this detainment will last for months?"

"Then we wait it out. But I am sure it will not last that long." He surveyed all of them. "However, I do not wish you to start ganging up on each other. I hope you have civility enough not to try to put the others out of commission while you are all here."

"Yeah, yeah," Jonah nonchalantly agreed, as if it was no big deal. As if he hadn't been chasing down Amy and Dan a few weeks ago, with threats to kill them.

Mr. McIntyre sighed but let it go. "Alright. You may now go and do as you wish, except for the things I have warned you against."

And like confetti blown by the wind, the Cahills scattered, off to different directions.

******

_**Hah! I know you're shocked…a bit. Sorry if I sprang the Tristan/Amy thing on you. But Ian needs some competition=) Don't get mad!**_

_**Oh, and Sinead's there for the same reason why Tristan is present. To give Amy a little competition to contend with. This was inspired by Paite-chan's fanfic, THE GREAT CAHILL RACE( check it out! I know I'm nasty, but…plzplzplz update it, Paite-chan! As well as the other authors out there with fanfics who are reading this). Who'll come out on top? I'm not guaranteeing Amy and Ian will end up together!**_

_**See ya next! **_


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The green monster reared up its head, bellowing in anger, filling Ian with so much jealousy he'd never thought he could hold within. His glittering, angry amber eyes followed Tristan and Amy as they rolled a soccer ball back and forth, even tumbling over each other once, their hair tangling. Ian stiffened at this scene, and a sudden surge of hostility overpowered him.

He tried to relax, concentrating on mundane things, such as the fact that his room had accumulated a tiny centimeter of dust, which the hundred maids had overlooked. He would have to talk to Mrs. Bunce, the rail-thin housekeeper put in charge of the servants, regarding this matter. Ian disliked dirt, which was why his room was kept immaculately clean, even while he was away. _Ah, good_. He was distracted now, free to ponder over things that required his attention.

Sinead Starling. She had been dogging him all day, following him around with a determination that had amazed even Ian himself. He didn't know what she wanted, but he was weary of the way she trailed him like a stalker. Already, his emotions were very close to the surface. Jealousy and hostility, confusion and frustration, irritation and annoyance, not to mention that his growing feelings for Amy placed him in a dangerous position, which could only be described as the tip of a knife, the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move would send him plummeting down to unknown dangers. Because of that…forbidden love, his parents would disown him, no doubt flying into a glorious rage Ian would have never seen the likes of before; his branch would turn traitor against him, reveal the very talents and ruthlessness that had distinguished them as the most powerful among all the Cahill branches; his sister would refuse to help him, regard him with cold eyes and a freezing demeanor. Even now, Ian had to make a choice. And for the first time, he was running away from it.

Natalie was oblivious to all this, that he was sure of. How could she not be? Her eyes barely glanced at him; she hardly noticed his disappearances, his steady detachment, his little emotional outbursts related to his frustrations with Amy that he could not sometimes control, the professional way he acted and dealt with problems that was not rooted on sincerity; and, most importantly, the conversations he was now having in his head because he could not confide in her and trust her to keep it a secret, not anymore. It was the last resort he would take, if all else failed.

Absentmindedly, he smoothed out the creases on his tailor-made Versace pants, gazing out at the landscape, though careful not to even glance at Amy and Tristan frolicking amongst the blades of grass and petals of flowers, so as not to take him down temptation's path and tackle Tristan before it was too late. The world worked in strange ways. Sometimes, he himself was staggered by the speed at which things traveled, the way they went on. And the greatest mystery was the way this envy swamped him, leaving no room for him to breathe. It was like he was drowning, and didn't know which way 'up' was.

One thing was for sure. Tristan shouldn't get Amy Cahill. Ian would _not _allow it. He might as well drop down on his knees and admit to everyone the turmoil going through his head.

He stared unseeingly at his surroundings, wondering if this was payment for all his evil deeds in the past, no matter how necessary they had been.

******

It was late afternoon, and Sinead was using the ploy of a cell phone text to hide behind while she scrutinized Ian Kabra. His face was impassive, expressionless, eyes glazed, chewing over some deep thought. As she observed him, a rush of wind blew, disturbing his jet-black hair. Without seeming to think about it, he brushed away the strands that had fallen across his eyes, those amber eyes of his that sparkled with whatever emotion passing through him at the moment, hypnotizing Sinead, making her woozy, leading her to wonder why this boy had to be so handsome that he could turn her head.

She was just a girl, after all. A gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful---in other words, a _perfect _girl. But still a girl, who could fall for an equally gorgeous, good-looking, wonderful, _perfect_ boy who also happened to be rich, part of a powerful family, not to mention brilliant. He was a devious Lucian, that was true, but that didn't matter to Sinead. Not at all. He could have been a Madrigal for all she cared---just as long as she had him as her prize.

And she _would_ have him. She knew he was avoiding her; Ian was smart enough to realize that, maybe more. Sinead didn't understand why he wasn't taking the golden opportunity to be with her. Perhaps he was being overly-cautious? Boys were so hard to understand.

Her eyes narrowed as, from a peripheral peek, she saw his eyes slide over to where Amy Cahill and Tristan O'Shea sat, at the base of one of the many trees that decorated the Kabra estate, at the same time keeping away the riffraffs. What did he see in that-shudder-unfashionable, bland, poor orphan girl? The novelty of having no parents? Her hideous hair? Her stuttering tongue? What? What was it the attracted him so?

She tried to console herself with the fact that perhaps, he was just biding his time, wrench information about the 39 Clues from her at the proper moment. _That's all_. But if Ian liked this girl on any level higher than he liked Sinead---though she was pretty confident that the top rung belonged to her only---she was going to raise hell and come after both of them in all the fiery blaze of her temper, and she would make sure that neither got away from her iron-hard clutches.

She settled back in her seat. She needed to relax. Ian was a wad of putty in her hands; he would have no shield to defend himself. Sinead smiled in anticipation of the day it would finally happen.

******

Dan's intuition told him that something was happening, a storm brewing amidst tranquility, a teetering domino about to fall and set off a chain of events. And it was all because of four people.

_Four people._ Just four people. Yet they would be the cause of much devastation---or so according to his mind. He knew he was right.

They were having dinner in the so-called Ancestors' Hall. It made Dan uncomfortable, mingling amongst his enemies. What made it even worse was that Amy was not sitting directly beside him. Sure, Uncle Alistair and Nellie flanked him like two stone pillars, but he didn't figure it a good sign that Paige was sitting by Nellie, next to her brother, who, through some meticulous planning, managed to maneuver Amy into a seat beside him. And some kind of omen had placed Ian Cobra on the other side of Amy. Weirdly enough, instead of Ian's sister, Natalie, beside him, Sinead was in her seat instead. Natalie had been pushed off in between Ned and Ted.

His mind was a jumble of mixed theories, incomplete thoughts, all rooted in suspicion. He knew only thing---some foul force was at play, firing blows before Dan could even stagger up and run. And yet…yet he felt that this went beyond just the surface. It had some deeper meaning, a meaning he was not yet ready to face. But what if it was true? What if…what if it was what he suspected? What if this was a love square of some sort? Sinead chasing after Ian, Tristan and Ian after---please, no---Amy, and Amy undecided between her ex and the crush turned traitor. It was hard to tell what she felt nowadays.

The next scene proved it all. Amy had been reaching for the glass pitcher of water. Pitting against each other on some kind of competition, Tristan and Ian reached for it, knocking Amy's hand away. She cringed in pain, or maybe that was just her reaction to the suddenly intense death glare Sinead shot her. Ian beat Tristan to the pitcher, his arm was longer. He brought it back, pouring the contents into Amy's glass, while she blushed, saying thanks to her lap and fingering the hem of the table skirt. Her brother's bizarre reaction froze Natalie in the act of reaching for her own glass. Add to that Sinead's face reddening in anger, hands clenched in fists, and Tristan's taut jaw, stopping the path of spoons loaded with food to Paige's, Ned's, and Ted's mouths. It chilled Dan to the core.

He would have to do it, though the idea made him wince. As servants appeared to clear the table, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he must do.

******

Ned Starling knew there was a reason behind his sister's pendulum swing of emotions, her bizarre actions. But before he and his brother, Ted, could chase after her, they were held up by a rat.

A rat going by the name of Daniel Cahill.

They weren't alone. He had managed to convince Paige and Natalie to stay, too. Paige was fiddling with the elastic that held her braid in place, while Natalie crossed her arms, scowling as she restrained herself from going after her brother, slap him senseless, and call for Lucian reinforcements. She went over to an empty seat, eyeing daggers at Dan, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Okay, you guys," he began nervously, looking down at his shoes rather than at his companions. "I think you can pretty much guess what's going on. And I know you don't like it, either."

They looked at him, confused. Or rather, at his dark blond hair.

"Um, what are you talking about?" Ted demanded, smacking his fist on the table for good measure.

"Be _careful_!" Natalie shrieked. "That's a $5 million dollar antique, made from the finest oak overlaid with high-quality, pure gold leaf, and encrusted with _real_ jewels. Of course, we Kabras can buy another, but this is _one of a kind!_"

Ted rolled his eyes, smirking as he high-fived Ned. "'That's a $5 million dollar antique, made from the finest oak overlaid with high-quality, pure gold leaf,'" he mimicked, then stopped when Natalie pulled out a gun from nowhere, smiling sweetly as she aimed the barrel at him, fingers at the ready to pull the trigger.

"Oh, go on, Ted," she urged. "Let's see…what would you want? An instant death? A deadly headache? Perhaps the urge to go into hysterics? I can easily provide that for you."

Ted paled, his fair skin receding into a snowy-white tone. Paige shrank, making herself small, staring at Natalie's gun with crippling terror all over her face. Ned's bravado vanished into thin air.

Dan coughed, unaffected. This was nothing new. "Oh-_kayyy_," he interjected. "Thank you for the unexpected threat, Natalie. Didn't see that coming. Well," he finally faced the others, ignoring Ned's blusters of "She's holding a damned gun!" and continued, "There's a crisis right under our noses."

"Of course there's a crisis," Natalie fumed. "Mom and Dad will get mad if they see a dent because of _Ted Starling's_ overactive hand."

Dan sighed in frustration. "No, I mean our siblings! The way they act! Like…like they're in some competition or something!"

Natalie lowered her gun and glared at Dan with piercing eyes, trying to see through him. Ned and Ted seemed unable to even utter a sigh of relief. Beside Dan, Paige began to nibble her nails nervously.

After a few minutes and no one deigned to answer him, or even comment, Dan added, "C'mon. I know you know it, too. Paige," he turned to the girl fidgeting in her chair, "can't you see how Tristan is fighting against Ian? And Natalie, you're no fool. Surely, you realize what your brother's up to? Ned and Ted, don't you see how Sinead wants to claw Amy's eyes out? And Amy…well, she's not…confiding in me anymore."

Natalie's face hardened. "_Of course _I know what Ian's up to! He may think I'm not aware of what he's doing behind my back, but I do! And it's not…not right! The Lucians and my parents will disown him if he so much as goes one step more into his plan. And me? I'm stuck in the middle, unable to talk, but not wanting to hide. It's totally unfair!"

"Tristan is inexplicably out of character, too," Paige said softly. "I've never seen him so determined and…I don't know…jealous? He's…not usually one to hold a grudge. But when Ian's around, it's like he goes into all-out full battle mode."

"Sinead's used to getting what she wants," Ned pointed out.

"And what she wants is Ian Kabra," Ted put in. He glanced at Natalie, then mumbled, "Though I don't know what she wants with that poisonous eleven-year-old witch."

The gun came right back up. "You're going to regret what you just said when I'm through with you," Natalie purred. "Now shut up and stop insulting the magnificent Kabra lineage."

Ted raised an eyebrow in skepticism, but kept his mouth shut.

"Calm down, Nat," Dan cut in. "Alright. There's going to be total chaos if we let this go on, and I don't want my sister to fraternize with the enemy. So," he jabbed his finger at each of them, "We have to separate them from each other. Or rather, partner them up---where they belong. Sinead with Ian, 'cause they're kinda perfect for one another, what with their perfection and all, and Tristan with Amy. You with me?"

They looked at each other. Then, together, they nodded. They had to admit, the boy was right. Even Natalie was impressed by his idea.

"Good." Dan grinned deviously. "We start…tomorrow."

******

_**Uh-oh. What are they all up to now?! **_

_**One thing: Lil' sibs are meant to be seen and not heard, or allowed to do what they want.**_

'_**Nuff said.**_


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

It was a peaceful start to a peaceful day. A gentle wind blew, tree's branches swayed, the sun shone, and puffy white clouds floated amidst endless blue sky. Everything seemed to make you smile. Everything glowed.

Everything did not warn anyone of what was about to happen next.

Five pairs of eyes suddenly sprang up from breaks in a row of fat, blooming rosebushes, scanning the landscape anxiously. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone, leaving no trace of their suspicious action on the bushes. Light footsteps pattered away, receding in the distance, with only a brief glimpse of different faces as evidence. And then the bushes were as quiet as ever.

Dan led the group silently, tiptoeing to a nearby hedge. Quickly, he ducked behind it, and crouched out of sight. The others glanced around for spies or recording devices, then followed him. They waited a moment in silence, ears pricked for a sound not their own. When they were sure there was none, they huddled together, Natalie emitting a hushed sound of disgust when she spotted grass stains on her black skinny jeans, which she'd favored over a red silk dress for this mission.

"Put a cork on it, Nat," Ted retorted to her horrified face, annoyed. "It's just jeans. Somebody's going to hear you and bust us."

"But it's custom-made by Prada!" Natalie whisper-wailed, upset that they'd missed the urgency of the situation. To her, this was a tragedy.

"Uh, Natalie? He's right," Dan told her. "We're going to get caught if you'll keep going on about grass stains. We have to _plan_."

"Yeah, so what are we going to do now?" Ned butted in, giving Natalie no chance to reply. "I mean, we hardly had anything up last night."

"That's 'cause Sinead had to leave her sunglasses behind and saunter in," Ted grumbled darkly.

"Well, I did say if we could move to the porch, but all of you said you were too tired," Dan reminded him matter-of-factly.

Ted opened his mouth, but Paige interjected before he could. "Okay, point taken, Dan. Now what?"

"We go for plan A," Dan stated, like it was so obvious. Which it was not. He was met by identical looks of confusion. "What?"

"What's plan A?" Natalie wanted to know, frowning as she tossed back her long dark tresses with a flourish.

"Yeah, you never told us there was a plan A," Ned piped up.

Dan rolled his eyes and exhaled sharply in exasperation. "Simple. All we have to do is separate them. I mean, by pair---Tristan and Amy, and Ian and Sinead. Then they'll get to talking, discover their similarities, and realize they're in love with each other. Easy. We don't even have to break a sweat!"

Ted raised an eyebrow. When he spoke, his tone implied that he thought it was far-fetched---yeah, it kind of made sense, but who's to say they'll even _talk_ to each other? "You actually think that's going to work?"

Dan glared at him, resenting the intrusion, like everyone thought he was still a little kid. "You got an idea?" he demanded stiffly. "'Cause if you do, _please share._"

Anger passed across Ted's face, and his eyes narrowed to become infinitesimal specks. "Watch it, junior," he snarled. "Just because you started this doesn't mean you can get all high and mighty. Got that?! Or I'll teach you and your impertinent big mouth a lesson."

"Yeah, totally," Ned agreed.

"Ugh, whatever," Natalie said, waving her hand as if she was fanning away some noxious, unwelcome fumes that had pervaded her nostrils. "Are we going to start or not?"

Dan's gaze lingered on Ted for a moment. "Yes. But it would be better if we don't go after our own siblings."

"Cool," Ted enthused, forgetting the little spat he and Dan had had a second ago. "What about Paige with Amy, you for Tristan, Natalie for Sinead, and me for Ian?"

"Sure. Fine." Dan stood, brushing off leaves from his pants. The others followed.

"What about me?" Ned whined like a little child denied sweets.

"You make sure to tie up loosed ends, monitor them, and make sure everything goes according to plan," Ted explained, thinking fast.

"Oh. Okay." Ned smiled, mollified.

They arranged themselves in a single line, Natalie jockeying for the middle position. With a brief, curt nod, they spread out.

Phase 1-Plan A of "Operation: Separation" had begun.

******

Amy was caught up in a book on a bench in one of the gardens' rose walk, suspecting nothing, when she was ambushed. Paige walked to her hesitatingly, unsure.

"Hi, Amy," she squeaked, unable to keep the meekness from her voice. She hated deception, no matter how necessary. And the fact that Amy was a friend, her brother's former girlfriend, only made her feel worse.

Amy looked up from _Little Women _with a start, sitting up in order to get a good look at the speaker. When she saw Paige, her pulse returned to its rhythmic, normal beat. "G-g-god, Paige. You scared me. What are you doing here?"

Paige took a deep breath to calm her strained nerves. "Um, I was looking for you. I-I wanted to show you something."

Amy contemplated this for a minute. Then with a sigh, she stood. "Guess _Little Women_ can wait," she chirped with good humor. Paige smiled encouragingly and led the way.

"You're gonna love this," she promised. And, not knowing her fate, Amy stepped right into the trap.

It was hard to tell where they were going. In the first place, the Kabra estate was enormous---you could easily get lost. And Paige _was_ hoping to get a little lost. She prayed that Ned was keeping a close eye on her direction, because she would need him to get back, and Dan would need him to lead them to where Amy was---Dan safely kept out of sight, of course.

They went through a lawn with nothing but grass and wildflowers, through woods of entirely oak and dogwoods, stopping at what looked like crystal-clear lake that had been part of the place since time out of mind. It was ringed by---what was the name again---chrysanthemums, with a pebbled walkway, a bench with slatted wood pieces and an ornately done gold carving for a backrest, and a few swings hanging from trees with rattan ropes, a rugged addition at home with the setting but quite contrary to the extravagant family's tastes. As Amy looked around curiously, she saw steps carved right into the trunk of an old oak tree, leading to the open doorway of a treehouse, blocked by a jade silk screen. Windows were chiseled right into the bark. There were no 'keep out!' warnings. Just an intricate exterior, and certainly a magnificent interior.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Amy breathed in wonder, reveling in the simple beauty and loveliness of this mystical place which seemed to hold magic in store for her.

"Uh, yes," Paige lied, the words overlapping each other as she hurriedly said it, so that Amy could not detect the falsehood underneath. "Hey, can I leave you here? I, um, need something, and I'm sure you want to appreciate this alone." _Or not,_ she thought. But Amy did not need to know that.

"Okay," Amy replied absently, walking over carefully to the edge of the lake, squatted and rocked back and forth on her heels, twirling her finger dreamily on the water. Paige left, taking out her cell phone to contact Ned and tell him to send over Tristan and Dan.

Time passed, a little bit sluggishly, but it passed nonetheless. Soon, Amy awakened from her trance, realizing, as she looked around her, that she was completely alone. And she didn't know the way out, or even _where_ she was exactly. Add to that the fact that Dan had borrowed her cell phone a while ago, and she had given it to him.

Panic overrode her senses. Where should she go now? What should she do? She could hardly leave this place. She'd just get even more lost! Standing up, trying to figure out what to do, she hoped that someone---_anyone_---would come here and find her, or that Paige would go back for her. Why hadn't she paid more attention to her surroundings in the first place? Why had she been so careless?

Wringing her hands with terror, she turned in a circle, looking for some plausible way out. As she faced the lake again, she heard a rustle, then the light sound of practiced, steady footsteps. Who was it? A friend she could turn to for help? Or a foe?

"Amy?" the voice asked, surprised, and though she had heard it so few times in her life, it felt familiar, forever haunting her. She froze in place.

More footsteps, heading toward her. A warm, strong hand clasped her shoulder and turned her petrified body around. "Why are you here?"

Amy stared at the emerald-green cashmere sweater that faced her, the only safe thing she could meet eye-to-eye. But it did not stop her from stuttering her answer. She was badly shaken---first the realization that she couldn't find her way, and then this. She wanted so badly to evaporate. "I-I was---I mean, P-paige brought m-me here b-b-because…I don't kn-know," she explained lamely, her words indistinct and a little slurred.

"Slow down," the velvet voice teased lightly. It was a shock. Forgetting that she was supposed to ignore him, Amy looked up at his face.

Ian Kabra was looking back at her, a small half-smile playing on his lips, every feature as perfect and as handsome as she remembered it. His amber eyes seemed to be laughing, but there were hints of worry in there. He brushed away a lock of hair that had blown across her eyes, and she stiffened. Feeling this, Ian stepped back, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Are you lost?" he inquired, voice flat, like it was a spiel he repeated ten times a day. But his eyes were full of emotion.

"N-n-no," Amy denied, not wanting to appear weak. He was grinning now, white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

"I'll leave you then, if you can find your way," he started to walk away. Mortified, Amy stepped forward.

"No!" she shouted. He stopped and turned back to her.

"Is there a problem?" He was leading her on, taunting her, trying to get her to submit. But she needed him if she was going to get out of here.

"No, I mean, y-yes. I-I'm l-lost," she confessed. Ian cocked his head. Then, without a word, the corners of his lips twitching, he surprised Amy by reaching for her hand. Seeing the conflicted look in her eyes and the way she shied away, he said, voice tight, "You might get lost. Again." Amy blushed, placing her shaking hand on his. Ian closed his long fingers around it, then began to walk, Amy trailing after him. "We'll get out of here soon enough," he assured her gently.

Hidden amidst the trees, Ted and Paige were berating Ned, who had come here to see it all in action. "You failed us!" Ted scolded in hushed tones. Natalie and Dan were just about to find out that Ned had mixed up the destinations.

"Sorry," Ned apologized. But nothing could take it all back now.

Phase 1-Plan A had failed.

******

_**More to come! And this time, I want y'all to submit with your reviews the next crazy ideas and the next crazy situations these sibs will find themselves in!**_

_**Merci et au revoir!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Okay. So I was gonna do a play-by-play, but suddenly, when we were driving home, my classmate texted me with lyrics from some song (it's a custom---we're best friends) and I was like---holy crap! I know what's going to be the last few chapters!!! So I'm just gonna run by the sibs' scheming (sorry, Dan! I know this was your time to shine, but…) and go straight to the point.**_

_**Ooh-la-la!**_

******

CHAPTER 9

Dan was at the fine line between going into hysterics and turning completely into an emotional wreck. All of their plans so far had gone to pieces, like a bridge with no supports. It was enough to discourage him.

They were all so frustrated that even Natalie banged her fist on the table without hesitation or reluctance of any kind. Worrying about antique wood furniture was the last thing on their mind right now. No strategy could ever get off the ground and soar. Just when they thought they'd had it, BOOM! Devastation.

"I knew that closet thing would never work," Ted groaned, referring to the time they'd locked up Amy and Tristan, and Sinead and Ian in separate closets. Sinead had stumbled in on Amy instead of Tristan, and Ian and Tristan both got into a fight in the other closet, resulting into chaos.

"As if your 'lost in the woods' stuff did any better," Paige grumbled despondently. They had led the four off into the woods, but instead of getting lost, Ian had called one of their servants, who immediately came running to get them.

"Well Natalie's love notes hardly did the effect," Ned pointed out, before World War III could occur between Paige and Ted. It had almost succeeded---until Ian had kindly pointed out to Sinead that it was his sister Natalie's handwriting, and had went on to prove false Amy's and Tristan's, too.

"You were the reason our very first scheme failed!" Natalie jabbed an accusing finger in Ned's direction.

"Can it," Dan sighed wearily. "I'm getting a headache. It's no use. We'll just have to hope it all blows over." He stood and walked away.

The others were left to stare at each other. Ted rubbed his forehead vigorously. "He's right, you know," he finally said. "It's no use. Just hope it blows over."

******

"Another book?"

Amy's cheeks reddened, like they'd burst into flames. She clutched her book tighter, determined not to look at the person speaking to her. This was best if she wanted to keep her sanity.

"Come, now. Don't be so defensive. I…I need to talk to you."

"T-talk about what, I-Ian?" Amy was shaking. From nerves or fright, she didn't know. "Talk about your n-next e-e-evil sch-scheme?"

Ian stiffened. "You know it's not about that."

"T-t-then what?" Amy demanded, slamming the book closed and faced him head-on. She quailed, but tried to hide it.

Ian's eyes were steadily looking back at her. His worry was indiscernible beneath his determination, but it was there. "I-I---"

"Ian!" Sinead suddenly ran to him. She couldn't lose. Lose to Amy? No! It was a good thing she had followed Ian. She threw her arms around him and took advantage of his frozen form to kiss him on the lips.

Watching this scene, Amy felt her own heart shrivel up and burn into ashes. He was just here…here to tell her to give up. That he liked---loved---someone else. Why had she been such a fool? Such an idiot? Had it been that obvious? Angry at herself, Amy forgot to stutter. "Sinead is your girlfriend? Why would _I _want to know? If you thought I've been falling for you and your charm, Ian, you're obviously delirious." She tried to prevent the tears gathering in her eyes, tried to keep herself from giving away her true feelings. She stood rapidly, gave them an ice-cold look, and stared Sinead down. "Oh, and good luck," she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

She couldn't hold in the frustration, disappointment, and hurt any longer. Without a word, she pushed past them and ran. Away from everything. Away from unrequited love. Away from the pain, sadness, and melancholy. And she allowed herself to cry silently, blurring her vision. She fell down once, but she hardly felt it when her knee scraped the cement. She just pushed on.

Ian broke away from Sinead forcefully, pushing her to the ground and ignoring her yelp. "Amy!" he cried, and ran after her. But she was gone, out of sight, out of his life.

Forever.

_**Hate me if you want. ' Cause I hate myself, too. WAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!**_


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Tristan felt himself falling, and he didn't know why. He had just been taking a walk along one of the Kabra estate's gardens, when WHAM! He was suddenly outbalanced.

He managed to dig in his heels and steady himself before he could hit his head on the pebbled walkway. Those stones could pierce his head in a second, and he wasn't ready for that to happen. After a moment, he realized that it was a person who had crashed into him, travelling at breakneck speed. By some unknown reason, he/she was shaking. A person with long, reddish-brown hair held back by a black headband…

"Amy!" he gasped in sudden realization. He tightened his hold on her. "What's wrong?" She was shaking harder than a house caught up in an earthquake, shuddering violently that it shook him, too.

She didn't answer, didn't seem to care, but she tried to control her shudder. She was crying so hard that she couldn't breathe. But what did breathing matter now? When all sense and reason for living was gone? When her hopes had vanished and fled? It was just…too much.

"Amy?" Hesitantly, Tristan held her chin up so he could see it better. She didn't put up a fight, suddenly feeling weak and limp and exhausted. Her eyes were open, but they seemed to have spaced out, seemed not to look at anything in particular. The tears just flowed, seamlessly, like a pair of waterfalls that only poured, never stopped. And her eyes themselves were like broken shards of glass, beautiful and terrifying and miserable at the same time. It pierced through Tristan's heart. Amy had always been a silent mourner, never made a noise, never screamed, never wailed. She only _felt._ The magnitude of her sorrow was so great, a few tears dropped from his eyes, unchecked. "Please, tell me. I want to help."

Amy scarcely heard him. Everything was checks and parallels, nothing to make sense of. Nothing she could gain. His words were so far away, like a remnant of some long-forgotten dream. With immeasurable slowness, she brought her hand up, took a great shuddering breath, and wiped away her tears. _He_ wasn't worth it. But that thought only made her want to cry more. If he wasn't worth it, why was she so miserable? "I-it's n-n-nothing," she managed, then forced a smile, which looked more like a grimace.

"It's not nothing." Did she think she could fool him so easily? They knew each other so well, they could easily predict what the other would do next. And if the aura surrounding her was anything to go by, something was very, very wrong. "You know you can trust me."

Amy was pretty calm by now. "Forget it," she deadpanned, an icy edge creeping into her voice. When she looked up, she could see hurt flicker in Tristan's eyes. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "It's just…" her voice trailed off.

Tristan collected himself. "No, it's okay," he soothed her. Her parents and Grace were dead, and her brother was younger than her. A pang shot through him when he realized that Amy had no one. No one at all. She had had to be her brother's protector, care for him, and hadn't even given a single thought about herself. She didn't have anyone looking after her. In all her kindness, Amy had not begrudged anyone their happiness, but to her, happiness was like an impossible dream.

He swept her back in his arms and hugged her (_**A/N: Gross!**_). For once in her life, he would be that someone who would protect her.

******

Ian placed a hand against a wood frame trellis supporting some vines and colorful flowers. He was out of breath and dizzy. He'd never run this fast before. And the fact that he hadn't seen Amy anywhere made him want to give up.

It was all too much to take in at once. Sinead's vile, forced kiss, Amy running away and her words, dripping with sarcasm_…__"Sinead is your girlfriend? Why would I want to know? If you thought I've been falling for you and your charm, Ian, you're obviously delirious." _Her blank, expressionless face, betrayed only by the anger in her eyes and tone…_"Oh, and good luck."_

"_Oh, and good luck."_

His world came crashing down on those four words, filled with naked fury that the kiss had awakened in Amy. He had no doubt now that she loved him. But it was a chasm no one could bridge, an endless oblivion no one could illuminate. And it was killing him. He had never felt this helpless before. Never. He was used to being in charge, in command, unaffected. But this time, he was as useless as a stick.

A sob.

A single sob was all it took to lift his head and stare at the scene up ahead. A single sob that undid him for eternity.

A sob that came from Amy's lips within the arms of a person Ian would hate all his life.

Tristan O'Shea had just made a fatal mistake.

******

_**I love drama! It's so dramatic! (This is not an original thought. But I don't remember where I heard it, so I can't give credit.)**_

_**Anyway, the final chapter is nearing, and the last few updates might be filled with angst. AND cliffhangers!!!**_

_**Five reviews until next! (Which I hope gives me time to check out Shugo Chara episodes, manga, and fanfictions, as well as update my profiles on Friendster and MySpace, not to mention my French and guitar lessons in between.)**_

_**Au revoir! **_


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Amy was barely aware of her best friend's arms around her, and her face staining his green shirt with salt water. It was…a relief to finally express herself, cry herself out, to feel that someone understood and tolerated her pain, even though not knowing why. It could've been anyone for all she cared. Well…maybe not literally anyone, like, Mr. Holt.

Her jagged, almost hysterical thoughts were interrupted rudely. Not that she cared. It was beyond her.

"Get your hands off her!" Ian snarled furiously, coming from nowhere, and Tristan was so shocked, he actually dropped his protective hold round Amy. She raised her head, red-rimmed eyes suddenly dry, droplets clinging to her lashes. He was the last person she wanted to see, but…his presence and tone both surprised and confused her.

Tristan collected himself, his shocked expression giving way to anger. "What gives you the right to order _me _around?" he demanded. "It's not as if you own her!" He clenched his hands into fists, and this movement scared Amy, that she stepped away from the line of fire between Ian and Tristan.

"You don't either." Ian's voice was surprisingly soft---and terribly dangerous. His usually smirking amber eyes seemed to have gone red, such was the blazing fire that raged within.

Amy cowered against a carved bench, her frightened eyes watching the two as they stared at each other, their mouths set in grim lines, like a they were drawn with red crayon. She didn't know what to do. Scream for help? Jump in between them?

Neither seemed like a good option.

"So it's going to be that way, huh?" Tristan broke the silence, his words like a knife whistling through the air, and the way he cracked his knuckles was an ominous sign.

Ian merely looked relaxed, raising an eyebrow contemptuously. He grinned and breathed out one word. "Coward."

Tristan's face turned a shade of deepest, darkest red, and leaped onto Ian, knocking him to the ground. Ian rolled him off, kicking him in the stomach, and used the chance to stand up.

Amy's mouth fell open in horror. No! This…this couldn't be happening. They were going to kill each other. Why wasn't she doing _anything to stop it?!?!_

"S-s-stop it!" she stuttered, the effect toning down her shriek. She trembled as Tristan threw Ian to the ground. "Stop i-i-it!"

They didn't listen. As she watched in terror, Ian dodged a blow from Tristan, and delivered one in return. This infuriated Tristan and he kicked Ian in the shins. Ian winced, but the expression was so fleeting that his rival missed it entirely.

Sinead burst in on the scene, panting, eyes searching for the boy who'd pushed her to the ground and left. Then her eyes widened when she spotted him and that dorky girl's best friend _fighting. _Her eyes slid over to Amy standing stock-still, mouth open. It was evident she'd been crying, which for a moment replaced Sinead's consternation with triumph at the thought that she'd made her give up. Then it all came back to her, and she dashed to a spot beside Amy.

"Why are you standing there like a limp rat?" Sinead snapped, and Amy's head turned toward her. "Do something!"

Her words brought a second wave of fury to run through Amy's veins. "You th-think I haven't tried?" she shot back, slipping only once. "If you're that self-righteous, why don't _you_ do it?!"

"Fine," Sinead huffed with undisguised impatience. Then, her tone angry and not even the least bit concerned, she shouted, "HEEEELLLLPPP!!! There's a mass murder over here!"

"Mass murder?!" Amy uttered in shock. "_Mass murder_?! Are you _that _stupid?"

"Well, Little Miss I-Know-It-All Bookworm isn't doing _anything!_" Sinead hissed viciously.

Before Amy could protest, Sinead's brothers, Ned and Ted, came running in response to her nasal call. Surprisingly, Natalie was running behind them. Dan and Paige followed. They all screeched to a stop as they saw Ian and Tristan both rolling back and forth on the ground. Sinead stuck her tongue out at Amy, whose eyes narrowed.

"Ian! Stop this at this instant!" Natalie commanded, arms crossed. "I'll tell Mom and Dad!"

"Dumb tattletale," Ian retorted as he ducked Tristan's flailing fists. Natalie gasped in shock.

Amy recovered herself. "Ned and, um, T-ted hold them a-a-apart! I don't c-care who restrains whom! Just d-do it!" she ordered, pointing at the intense and focused brawlers. Ned and Ted nodded, grinning in excitement like a pair of Cheshire cats. They leaped forward, synchronized. With some effort, Ned was soon restraining Tristan, holding his hands behind his back, while Ted did the same to Ian. They both bared their teeth at their captors like bulldogs. Arnold, the Holts' pit bull, looked cuter in comparison.

"Let go of me!" Ian struggled against Ted's hold, who winced, but stood his ground.

"Who do you think you are?" Tristan spat at Ned. He floundered helplessly. Tristan was a soccer captain, _not_ a fighter.

All of a sudden, Amy couldn't take it any longer. Her burden suddenly weighed another ton, and she couldn't see anything. "Stop it," she pleaded hopelessly, sadly, miserably. "Stop it." Her vision blurred with tears like a river breaking out from the dam, and ashamed, she turned and fled.

Dan took one last glance of Ian's and Tristan's contrite faces, then ran after her.

She was always there for him. This time, he would be there for her.

******

_**In case you can't tell, I suck at fight scenes. Sorry.**_

_**Oh well. Eight reviews till next?**_

_**=)**_


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Ian's eyes remained impassive as his eleven-year-old whiner of a sister accused him of calling her names in front of the judges…

…otherwise known as his parents, back from a trip to Thailand, no doubt involved in the preparations for yet another secret mission. This time, it wasn't so secret anymore. Ian barely cared. His branch would succeed again anyway, even if it was temperamental Alana Flores on the loose. She was efficient. Her only flaw was her fiery hell of a temper.

"_Qu'est-ce q'y c'est passé, _Ian?" his mother, Isobel Kabra, asked in French sternly. Ian didn't look at her like he usually did.

"He's in love with a girl named Amy Cahill," Natalie butted in, but her voice was quiet. When Ian's head turned toward her, she was looking at the ground, face troubled.

"The orphan girl and her dimwit American brother?" Vikram Kabra rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, while his wife's eyebrows shot up. The atmosphere was unusually tense. "The very ones I have commanded you to exterminate, time and time again, yet you failed? The ones who tricked you and sent you off to a fictional place called Lake Tash? Ian, is this true?" His eyes, identical to Ian's, probed.

Ian did not answer. He stared off coolly into space, like he was meditating.

Vikram's eyes did not leave his son. "Go out, Isobel and Natalie. I need to talk to him alone. This is something we, as father and son, should talk about."

"Vikram?" Isobel looked up at her husband, but he seemed to be far away. With a sigh, she ushered Natalie out and closed the carved oak doors behind them.

The moment that they were all alone, Vikram leaned back in his seat and watched his son. Although it looked quite dead, flickers of emotions danced in his eyes, betraying how Ian really felt.

Vikram was a man who believed that brusqueness and directness were the only ways to get what you wanted. But this time, the role of being dictator and leader was not applicable nor advisable in this situation. This was the time he had to become who he really was and should be to Ian: an advisor, a friend, a father.

"You're confused," he stated without precedent, and Ian started, his gaze lingering on his father for half a second. Realizing his error, he quickly looked away.

"It's alright to confide in me, you know that, Ian," the elder Kabra coaxed in a soothing tone. Ian, he could see, was nervous, and he had a theory about that…But the child must answer his queries if it was to be proved.

"There is nothing to confide." Ian spoke as if he was uttering the same spiel, over and over. Monotony filled his voice. His gaze fixed on an original Rembrandt.

Vikram raised an eyebrow. In all ways, he looked like Ian, though gray peppered his hair, and a few wrinkles had invaded his face. He was taller, his build powerful, and it was like a vision of the future Ian. "Stubborn as ever, son? It is an admirable quality, no matter what others may say, but please…do not turn the tables on your own flesh and blood."

The word 'please' jolted Ian into a confession, before he could fully comprehend what was going on. "It's just...there's something about that girl that catches my eye…and…I don't think it's right for that to happen. I mean, there are better girls out there. Why her? Why now?" He put his head in his hands, as if to shut out voices erupting in an ear-splitting cacophony. "It makes me feel…confused and unsure. You know me, Papa. You know who I am---or who I used to be. And this…this is not me."

Vikram could see the conflict that raged within the child. He didn't want to let anyone down, not his branch, not his family, not…himself. Ian was only 14, but he had more dreams, more goals, more aims than Vikram had ever had that age. It made him feel…proud, that his son had turned out so well. But it worked against him, too. Ian was so used to who he was, his way in life, his direction, that a fork in the horizon instantly made him doubt in his abilities. Sometimes, he had to let himself go, to let his character change and grow…for it to break open in order to give room for any new possibilities, in order for him to become wholly and truly his own person. In truth, Ian was a shadow of his father. For him to become who he was and fulfill his own wishes, he would have to embrace his true self, flaws and all. Vikram knew he did. If he hadn't learned to open his heart, he would have lost his wife. Once, long ago, he had faced the very same trouble, the very same obstacle. But once he had overcome it, it paved the way for him to further his life. The only thing now was to help Ian know that.

"Ian," he said quietly. "There is no right or wrong in whatever path we choose. There is no concrete evidence as to who we really are. There is only ourselves, forever changing, unstable, yes, but it is part of who we are, for us to become better persons. Only you know what your heart whispers, what it yearns for. And only you can decide."

Ian raised his head and looked at him, his eyes hesitant, reluctant. His heart told him what he wanted…but his mind…his mind was supposed to say what he needed. He couldn't make heads or tails of it all. What was his choice? His heart? His mind? Rationality or irrationality? Break loose or be chained? "But, Papa…"

"Son, fear is holding you back. Everything is obstructing your path. Think of this as if you are choosing the best shovel in order to dig yourself out. I cannot believe I am saying this, but…" he smiled wryly. "Listen to your heart. I am not as cynical as I seem. I know how it is to love. To be hurt. Be confused. Be troubled. To struggle. To fight with myself. How I tried to unite the cores of my being, made them fit, until I found out that their irregularity is what makes them special. I see too much of myself in you. Mark my words, I am satisfied with the man you have become. But this time you have to be the man you really are."

Ian stared at his father. Was he…really telling him to accept those feelings? Giving him his blessing? Not reprimanding him or telling him to turn around and go the other way? That the…love…he felt for Amy Cahill was right? Or was this just some fanciful hallucination? Suddenly, he was afraid it was. Because it had given him a taste of what he so badly wanted to have, and to take it away would be cruel, leave him broken. "Papa, I…are you joking?"

"No." Vikram looked amused. "I am not. You may go now. I believe you have some…unfinished business."

Ian felt as if he was about to whoop in joy and jump up and down but he restrained himself. "Thank you, Papa," he said gratefully, the gratitude itself heartfelt. He stood.

"Oh, and Ian." Vikram twiddled his thumbs together. When he met Ian's questioning glance, his eyes twinkled mischievously. "Get the girl. At least, your mother's fury would be easier to bear if you do. Besides, we Kabras never lose, eh?"

Ian thought he was joking, as if he were crazy. Did his father once become a lunatic in a mental asylum? But he cleared his throat. "O-of course."

Vikram waved him on. Ian paused for a second as if to steel himself, then went on his way in his strong, unmistakable stride. He pushed open the doors, and they swung shut without him having to turn around. His father kept his eyes on his back until he was gone. And then he looked out at the pink bleeding through the yellow-orange sky, streaking the whites and blues with color.

"Ah, young love," he murmured, and smiled, appreciating the sunset.

******

_**Whew. Another chappie done. Five reviews more, please! You'll make a tired and aching and I-have-writer's-cramp author very, very, happy!**_

_**See ya!**_


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

For others, silences were awkward, never-ending, a curse. Silences were bad omens…in a way. But to Amy, silence retained its truest form. Silence to her meant peace, nature singing the most ethereal song, music so heavenly that soothed any struggling soul. And right now, not even books could comfort her. She needed to think…to face the very things she'd been running away from…no, _hiding_ from.

But that didn't mean a book wasn't nearby. Because Amy was sitting right now in one of the plush, winged armchairs scattered all over the mansion's library.

Shelves and shelves, tottering with volumes stacked by category, then alphabetical order, leaned against oak-paneled walls and stood near oval mahogany tables, or the occasional groups of armchairs around a clear glass center table. The marble floor was carpeted with exotic embroidered carpets made with the finest fabrics. Exquisite flower arrangements graced the area. Real diamond-and-gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, illuminating the place when darkness swooped in and not even the windows could reflect back the rays of sunlight anymore. Full length floor-to-ceiling mullioned windows offered a view of the amazing sunset, colors painting the usually empty sky, making it a happier place. Amy hoped that it made her parents happy, too, seeing the magic that sunsets always brought. She remembered clambering on her mother's lap as they sat on the grassy lawn, pointing at the sky with joy. It was something they shared. After, they would usually try to paint it. Mom's was always a beautiful replica, but Amy's was only a few streaks of various colors. To her, it didn't matter. Because she always kept those sunsets in her heart.

Those memories didn't make her cry. They only brought a wave of nostalgia, surging through her with power…but in a way, they made her hopeful, too. Hopeful that even if a person disguises himself, the beauty within stays forever.

Always.

"Here you are…as always," Tristan cheerfully announced, and walked over, twirling a soccer ball with his finger. There was something…_off_ about him. He seemed nervous and wary.

"Hey, Tristan," Amy wearily replied, remembering the brawl he'd had with Ian a while ago. "No bruises so far? You shouldn't have done that, you know." But he did, anyway. Tristan loved any excuse to have a fight.

He sat down on the floor in front of her, setting the ball on his lap. He looked flustered, and she could see remnants of a blush fading away from his cheeks. _What….?_

"Amy?" He looked up. "Is your Aunt Beatrice still against boyfriends?" He grinned at her, and Amy had a flashback of when she'd been forced to break up with him because of her eccentric aunt.

She laughed softly. "Does it matter? She disowned us, you know." A suspicion nagged at her mind but she pushed it away. "Why?"

"Nothing. It's just…" He suddenly looked like a tomato. "It's just…"

"It's just…?" Amy prompted. Tristan was uneasy. How could he tell her, now of all times that he---he loved her? How? Sure, they'd shared something in the past, but…the past was the past. She could've easily fallen for that Kabra guy. He had been his greatest enemy so far. Actually, his _only_ enemy. But that cunning Lucian was still deadly---in whatever game.

"It's just…" He closed his eyes, afraid of her reaction. "It's just…IT'S JUST THAT I LOVE YOU, AMY!!!!!!!" His ears were pricked for her answer, though they quavered.

Amy froze. Love…? _Her?_ But…it wasn't new, was it? They _had_ shared something…before. But now? She wasn't so sure. Did she love him back? _Could_ she love him back?

"Tristan, I…" She clenched her hands and stared at the veins bulging from the pressure and strain. "I…I don't think I return that…that feeling. Long ago, maybe. Now…not anymore. I'm…sorry."

"It's okay." He glanced back up, and tried to smile to reassure her that it really was alright, though his heart dropped like a stone. Tristan stood back up, letting the ball fall and bounce mutedly on the carpeted floor. And then, in a movement so fast that Amy didn't see it coming, he kissed her.

Kissed her. _Kissed her_.

"G-g-got to go." His legs shaking, Tristan stooped to pick up the ball, and ran, avoiding Amy's disbelieving gaze.

Amy watched him go, touching her lips. It felt…wrong. It was as if it was a fire blazing, but she still repeatedly doused it with water. She felt so confused and scared. Was her answer the wrong one?

She looked out the windows. The night sky was dusted with glitter, twinkling little stars that blinked with radiance.

"Mom…" she whispered. "Mom…what is the right choice?"

******

_**Ehhhh…..finally. Done! Btw, about Ian's father…that was just wishful thinking on my part. But I DO hope it's true. LOL=)**_

_**Next chappie---after 3 reviews! And this might run for 16-18 chapters total by the way.**_

Troubadour12


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Ian was not someone who was easily caught unguarded. He was always alert and ready for action. After all, he was a Lucian. _He_ was the one supposed to do the sneaking, the spying, the investigating.

So how come Sinead was easily able to appear out of nowhere and block his path, just like that?!?!

"Sinead." For once, he didn't know what to do, which direction to take. She had been just like an obsessive fangirl, hounding him with the impressive loyalty and doggedness of a beloved Labrador. Except Sinead was _not_ beloved, and she certainly _wasn't _a Labrador, not even a dog.

"Ian," she exclaimed, but there was a sternness in her tone. Without warning, she stepped forward, and slipped her arms around his waist. Ian tried to step back, but in vain. The girl was not letting him go that easily. "You've been very, very naughty lately."

"You're hardly one to talk," he murmured under his breath. If it wasn't for her disgusting intervention, he would have had Amy and would not have had to go through all this trouble.

She frowned up at him, as if she was innocent and had done nothing wrong. Damn. What was with women, playing up their vulnerability? Except for Amy, of course…she never used it to her advantage. "What do you mean, babe? I didn't do anything." Her frowning eyes turned to puppy-dog ones.

Ian gritted his teeth and pushed her away. Dazed, she leaned against the wall. "Don't you call me 'babe', Sinead," he snarled. "I hardly know you, I don't even like you, and you act as if you're my girlfriend?! Back off! And stop acting as if I'm the one who's in the wrong!"

Sinead gasped, feeling a rip in her heart. As if it was tearing up. Tears sprang forth, unsuppressed, and spilled down her cheeks. How…how could he do this to her? "Because you are!" she shrieked, letting loose all her frustration and brokenheartedness. "Why? Why can't you see that I love you? What do you see in that Amy freak, the Cahill stain? Why do you always _push me away_?" She began to sob, shuddering uncomfortably.

Ian's face hardened. "Because _I. DON'T. LOVE. YOU."_ He emphasized each word, filled them with as much hate as possible. "Now leave."

Sinead glared at him, her face streaked with tears. Her hand leapt forward, and she---

---she slapped him. Ian's face smarted, reddening in reaction. But he just stared her down fiercely. "Got what you wanted?" he hissed viciously. He knew he shouldn't act like this, and might not have had, if Sinead hadn't pushed him to the end of his tether. "Doesn't change anything."

She stared at him, feeling her heart sink, then turned and ran away, her footsteps like a funeral dirge.

Ian clenched his fists. He had finally overcome most of his obstacles.

But his worst obstacle…was Amy herself.

_**A/N:**_

_**3 reviews people=)**_

…_**too tired to say anything more…**_


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Was every day like this for an ordinary person with an ordinary life? Did normal human beings go around like this, attending a grandmother's will reading only to be entered in some crazy, winner-take-all contest, go against ruthless cousins, face a lot of enemies, break into strongholds, and have to contend with heart-wrenching love triangles---or in her case, love squares?

_Of course not,_ Amy thought. _I just really happen to attract all these troubles to me. _She sighed, thrusting her hands into the pocket of her jeans, trying to get over the fact that she hurt her best friend, probably even some hidden part of her, too. But now she knew. She and Tristan could never be more than just friends---not anymore. All her feelings for him had been stamped out long ago, forgotten, though she tried to hold on to them. Like paper consumed by raging flames they soon became ashes scattered all over.

The night was unseasonably cold. A rush of wind blew, rustling leaves and shaking trees, threatening to pull out flowers from the fertile soil. It was dangerous, seeming to hint at a particularly powerful storm, gathering strength. Kind of reminded her of Madrigals.

But what did she know about Madrigals? Nothing but the fact that they were a clan that even the cruel Lucians feared and shied away from. A clan who seemed hell-bent on secrecy and gaining the clues solely for themselves. She shuddered. Would they have to face them someday? Deep inside, she didn't want to know. Perhaps it was better if they were caught by surprise, rather than be aware and wait in anxiety all their lives.

Amy was not aware of someone following her. So absorbed was she in her thoughts, she didn't hear the light _thump_ of an approaching footstep. But Ian was. Ian was aware of the way she walked down the path, without any regard or importance given to her surroundings, clearly overlooking the fact that it was easy to get lost around here. He tried to breathe, tried to keep his wits around him. Nothing else in the world could have ever had such a frightening prospect.

He could handle raids, private missions, holding a gum and aiming at the enemy. Blackmailing, negotiating….wasn't that even his specialty? But all those had been done in utmost secrecy and a lot of strategic planning. When he came down to it, this was a spur of the moment, rashly thought out.

He couldn't think of a proper opening. What should he say-"Hey, Amy, I love you?" That wouldn't work. She'd just look at him as if he was some kind of otherworldly being. And then yell at him in her cute, endearing, stutter. It was a little obstacle, but it made her who she really was.

He said the only thing that made sense, was short, and would cause him less embarrassment. "Turn around, Amy."

The girl stiffened. Was it because of surprise, hatred, or something other, he wondered. Would she even turn around? Her actions were hesitant, indecisive, charmed but resisting, afraid to trust but intoxicated by the possibilities.

Amy clenched her hands. Was she ready for this? Ready for him? Ready to talk and see his absurdly perfect face like nothing had happened? Ready for her heart…to be broken some more? Trying to conceal her nervousness and fright, she turned around. "W-what do you w-want, I-Ian?"

He smiled easily at her. Amy didn't know, couldn't see, couldn't feel, but he was just as nervous and frightened as she was. "I never really did say what I wanted to say before. Will you take a walk with me so we can talk?" He offered his hand, which took all his will power not to tremble and shake.

She stubbornly refused his hand. "We can t-t-talk here f-fine," she replied. Amy didn't know what he was planning to do next, but she'd really rather stay put then go places with him and be led to a trap.

Ian shifted his weight to his other leg. This wasn't the time to show cowardice. His smile melted, and a serious look replaced it. "There's something I have to ask you, Amy," he told her.

Amy waited. "What is it, th-then?" She was digging in her fingernails and it hurt a little on her palm.

_Courage, Ian._ He remembered what his father said: _Listen to your heart. There is no right or wrong in whatever path you choose…._ "Amy, did you ever receive my letter?" He looked at her intently. Shock was evident in those beautiful, expressive green eyes of hers. "And the necklace that came with it?" he prodded.

Amy stared into his eyes, hypnotized. "L-l-letter? N-necklace?" As soon as she said the words, she snapped back to earth. That letter and necklace! They were in her bag, hidden, because she hadn't wanted Dan and Nellie to know. Still she knew Dan suspected. "W-what about it?" It reminded her of what the letter contained. What made her so shy and vulnerable near him. What made her afraid to take a step closer.

Ironically, he took a step forward, leaning down at her. Suddenly, she was aware of their closeness. If she reached out, she could touch his hand, his face. But she couldn't. She _wouldn't_. Their faces were inches apart and she couldn't breathe.

Ian gently raised her chin with the tips of his fingers. "I meant every word I said." His sweet breath wafted over to her. "I love you."

Amy's eyes widened. He…_loved _her? Then why did he ignore her? Why did he kiss Sinead? Why was he always with that mean, auburn-haired girl? More importantly, why would he choose Amy over Sinead?! He was lying. He _had _to be lying. He was just trying to confuse her, to use her, just like he did back in Korea. Wrapping her around his little finger, yanking her inside out. She took a step back, shaking her head vehemently, in denial.

"Liar," she breathed, as Ian let his hand fall in shock. "Liar!" she screamed, the tears truly coming fast now, as all the hurt and grief and pain of long ago crashed in on her. Reminders of her heartbreak echoed in the night air. And it cut through her.

She fled. Ian could do nothing to stop her.

It began to rain as Amy stopped to rest, panting with exhaustion. She looked up. The clouds were dark and gloomy, and raindrops came down on her, fast.

Mixing with her tears. Making them one.

_I walk in the rain so no one can see me cry._

******

_**The drama does not end yet. I have a better ending in mind! LOLz. The ransom this time is…10 reviews!!!!!!!!!**_

_**MWAHAHAHA!!! *coughs* ow….sore……throat……**_


	16. Ian's POV: She Holds My Heart

CHAPTER 16

_Ian's POV_

I don't know how I could ever get her to forgive me. How could I erase all those painful memories of the past? How could I make her understand? How could have I ever betrayed her like that?

As I watched her go, run away from me like I was a vile creature, I felt as though I'd been stabbed a hundred times in my heart. Nothing but Amy's rejection of the truth could have ever brought me to my knees, hysterically begging for forgiveness in the deep bowels of the dark, lost without a candle in a storm. Her eyes, those soulful eyes, like purest jade, filled with so much hurt that I could feel it rushing with the wind…a force simply too strong to be ignored. The tears cascading down her cheeks that wiped out the blazing fires and plunged us both into melancholy and endless chasms...it was simply too much to bear. Even if I wanted to move, to come after her, I couldn't. Because I had hurt her so much that hurting her anymore would kill me.

And by just seeing my face, I hurt her. Cut her. Razed through her like some wild forest fire. I didn't want that…never wanted it at all.

For once, I didn't care that dirt clung my clothes. A little physical stain was nothing compared to my blackened soul. It was so black that I always managed to make the girl I loved cry…be dejected…be afraid…afraid to trust in me, no, not anymore. Would I be able to break away from all of this? Break away from this ruthlessness and cruelty ingrained in me…be able to make someone else happy at last? All I ever seemed to do was go against them all. Make them unhappy. And I was tired of that.

The wind howled, the only sounds in the night…aside from Amy's accusations reverberating in my ears, my mind, my heart…

I stood up. Contemplating the misery of it all was not helping. I had to go find her. The estate was a large one, and the terrain was sure to confuse her. She could lose her way, be ambushed…

That thought sent a burst of determination flowing through my body and got me moving. My eyes scanned the gloomy, ominous skies. Skies with wispy vapors as if smoke moved through it.

Skies that rained down water droplets in my shell-shocked face.

"_Damn!"_ I let loose a stream of curses, my pace quickening. Not only was she lost, she was caught out on a goddamned storm, too! Amy was quite delicate, and she could easily panic, just as easily fade into unconsciousness. Soil turned to runny water, dirt transformed to mud. I plowed on, eyes frantically searching for her, a face and body I've memorized so perfectly, that went through my mind a thousand times like an incorrigible tape recording.

I was worrying so hard that I almost missed the faint outline lying on the grass interspersed with mud.

"Amy!" I cried, and ran over to her. I stopped short when I saw that she had fainted, her eyes closed, mouth slightly open, her hair like a stream of copper fanning out around her. She was turned a little sideways. Her hands were trembling.

I dropped to my knees beside her, and swept away a lock of hair away from her expressionless face. She looked weak, perhaps having stayed out in the rain for hours. I was lucky enough to have been wearing my jacket.

But she wasn't.

Swiftly, I took it off, not minding the drops that pelted me with fervor and intensity. She needed it more than I. Working quickly with silent precision I had gained from my training, I put it on her, careful not to wake her up, alert her to my presence. After pulling the hood over her head, I placed my arms beneath her body.

She was surprisingly light. Or maybe it only felt that way to me. I carried her with as much tenderness as I could, princess-style. _My princess…_

She was shivering. Her eyelids fluttered. Her hand twitched, seeming to grope for something, her cheeks flushed red. It stopped when it touched my shoulder. "Ian…" she whispered desperately and I felt a tingle creep up my back. "Ian, don't leave me…" Her words floated with the wind.

A smile spread through my lips. Without thinking about it, I bent my head down and kissed her head. "Silly girl. I won't."

Was it some trick of my mind, or did she really smile? She faded back to steady, albeit restless, slumber.

I walked on ever faster. Bring her back to safety. Bring her back to peace.

Tomorrow will be a new day.

******

_**Whew….another chapter done. Will the next one be the last…or will there be another surprise?**_

_**Find out after 15 reviews!**_

_**Oh, and people…which do you think is the best love song?**_

_**A.)You Found Me by Kelly Clarkson B.)Thinking Of You by Katy Perry C.)Tonight by FM Static D.)Crush by David Archuleta**_

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_**Till next!**_


	17. Amy's POV: My Light In The Night

CHAPTER 17

_Amy's POV_

My world was dark. It had always been like endless oblivion to me. Day and night, I kept on living. But back then, seven years ago, when my parents died in that house fire, I'd felt that I had died along with them.

I kept up a façade. Built a wall around myself, that no one could ever, ever scale. I hid behind books. Books were my friends, because they gave life to magic and happiness I know I'll never experience. They made me forget. Helped me pretend. They were my guards from the crushing reality that was like a sword to my side.

And yet, I couldn't bear to lie and act around my little brother. I couldn't bear to rob him of knowing who his sister was. So the only time I became the real me was around him…and Grace.

Dan. My little brother. Though he acted cool and nonchalant about the way his life was going, how he had never met his parents, how Grace was gone, too, I know it pierced him inside. I know he cried at nights. I know he hid it from me. I know he held on to every word I said concerning them. I know he mourned. I know…that we were completely alone.

Through tunnels of darkness, I stumbled and groped, stuttered and mumbled, slipped and tripped. I didn't show how afraid and lost I was to Dan. Oh, he knew I was shy most of the time. How insecure and lacking in confidence I could be. But what he didn't know was how I struggled to be myself and be strong in front of him.

It was hard. A million times more difficult than this quest. But I pressed on, knowing the day I succumbed and died would be the day Dan would fall and lay broken, too. And so, I simply had to push myself more.

Flashes of light---a supernova in the blanket of the unseen. Images, time, places, events…simply put, memories…

_My fifth birthday…Mom had arranged for a treasure hunt…From my bedroom to the garden…Up our treehouse…Dan's room…then run, run, run to the library…a pile of books and a bike!...and back in the house, a surprise party…_

_Jolted awake by scream and yells, the smell of smoke…Was there a barbecue? Orange-red light….Flames….spreading through the whole place… "Mom!" "Dad!" No answer…A man with an orange hard hat scooped me up, his face shadowed, perspiring…I see Dan, waving his little body and wailing, in another of those men's hands…_

_The funeral…no more Mom…no more Dad…Aunt Beatrice, frowning at us angrily, her mouth a thin line…What is this? Grace, telling us that we'll live with her…An argument, dragging on for days…_

_Years flash by without importance…dull school…only weekend trips to Grace hold any interest or joy to me…playing with Dan…watching as he grew up….realizing his parents are dead….OUR parents were dead…Cruel Aunt Beatrice…_

_The hunt, the quest…Grace's funeral….No time to cry, shed tears…A hundred traps…Hundreds of confusing twists and turns…Hundreds of unsure moments…Loneliness….Exhaustion…Fear…Ian Kabra's face ingrained in my mind's eye…Dust blowing everywhere…My lips, tingling from that slight contact…Then afterwards, that dreadful betrayal…_

All those feelings mixed together, like some potent brew, was enough to jolt me awake. My eyes flew open and I sat up, realizing after a split second that I was not in my, Dan's, and Nellie's room. I mean, how could I be? This place was distinctly different, more elegant, more richly decorated. Ours was…second class compared to this place. Though make no mistake, it had the aura of being in a first-class hotel suite.

Polished marble floor, beautifully-done carpeting with embroidered carpets, expensive antiques made of different types of wood, rich velvet draperies, gilt furniture, frosted glass doors, a pair of stained ones leading to a wide balcony decked out with outdoor chairs and tables, silk covers, artistically-done pillows, Picassos hanging on the somehow glittering silver walls, gleaming gold possessions, and glinting mirrors everywhere. The scent of clove and lavender floated vaguely in the air. It was like I had stepped into another world, a place fit for a king. Yes, king. Because if I'm not mistaken, that tailored black jacket was definitely meant for a boy. Would that mean then, that I was in some unknown boy's room, carted off into the night?

The last thing I remember was running away from Ian in tears. That would explain why my eyes ached uncomfortably. And then, I had been caught out in a storm, while I was trying to desperately find my way back. Until everything turned black. I didn't know what went on beyond this point. All I know is that I was probably kidnapped, or taken pity on by a male servant, and brought me to his room. But would the Kabras' servants really have this kind of room? Unbelievable. Unreal.

My head pounded and my stomach growled. I think I'd probably missed dinner, judging by the whole time I was asleep…at least, whoever had found me had not made me stay in squalor…or worse, _kill_ me. I lay back down amongst the soft pillows and feather mattress, staring at the clothes I was wearing, which was obviously not the red polo and jeans I'd worn before ending up here. And neither could they ever be from my bag. I don't think I've ever stuffed lavender silk pajamas with lilies in my Jansport before. And frankly, how could I have even gotten them?

There were just so many thoughts running through my head, that I couldn't make any sense of it all. It made me even dizzier, made the room tilt and reel like a snowglobe being shaken in all possible angles and directions. I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm, to focus.

The sound of a door clicking closed reached my ears.

Automatically, as if by instinct, I sat up, eyes open. I could see the back of a tall, black-haired dark boy, dressed in white jeans and an immaculate white button-down shirt, tucked in one side and loose in the other. Who was he? My captor? A friend? Dan, who'd suddenly dyed his hair black, tanned his skin, paid for a hotel room, and got those clothes from charity or something???

He turned around, and I recognized who he was. Surprise lit up his amber eyes, and his lips quirked into a soft, reconciliatory smile. "Oh, good, you're awake," Ian said cheerfully, going over to where I was. "I was so worried…you haven't woken up for two days, burning with a high fever. I brought you to my bedroom when I saw you lying in the grounds in the middle of the storm. Your nanny and Dan wants to sue me because I refused to move you back to your room. I wouldn't have wanted to disturb you like that. Don't worry, no damage has been done. It's still dawn, no one's awake yet." He looked up at the ceiling. "Except for me," he added thoughtfully.

I clenched my hands tightly into fists, not minding that my nails dug into my palm. I stared at it, so as to avoid looking at him. He hadn't mentioned my running away from him, his words…could it be it wasn't true after all…?

Just like that, my heart suddenly hurt, and I gasped. What did that mean?

Worry replaced Ian's smile. He touched a comparatively cool hand to my forehead, and a tingle ran up my spine. "What is it, Amy?" he asked gently, taking off his hand.

"N-n-nothing," I managed to stammer. I seized on the first subject I could think of, almost wildly, hysterically. "Just that…why d-d-did you bring me to y-y-your r-room?" Thinking about it made me blush, and the temperature felt as if it had gone up thirty degrees. Boy, was I really sweating it.

To my surprise, he jumped onto my bed---_his_ bed, actually---kicking his shoes off, and languidly sat beside me with his legs stretched out in front of him, hands folded behind his head. I scooted away from him, unable to stand the close physical contact, and the fact that I was in pajamas made me more embarrassed. "Because I was in a panic and conveniently forgot where your room was," he explained, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"C-C-Conveniently?!" I heard myself shriek-stutter, horrified that he made this turn out to be some kind of game, and I had to play along. This guy was simply unbelievable!

He glanced over at me and playfully chucked me under my chin. "Yes." Unexpectedly, the world turned somber at that on word. He looked away, staring at a winged armchair. "Amy…" he began seriously. "I have to talk to you."

So the time had come. It could not have been that he'd forgotten it all. He was just biding his time…The reason why he'd brought me here was because he---including I---needed more privacy, which we wouldn't get if I was back where I slept with Dan and Nellie. Still, even though I knew what was going to happen next was inevitable, I tried to delay it anyway. "Just a m-m-minute. Wh-why am I w-wearing these?" I gestured to the clothing articles I had on.

He gazed at them for a split second longer than necessary. "Those were tailor-made just for you. I had it done by one of our outstanding servants, and they whipped it up right away."

"B-b-but how w-would you kn-know my size?" I objected, but failing miserably to inject the slightest hint of a protest in my voice.

He smirked at me like I was dumb, which almost made me flare up. But I shut my mouth and listened. Besides, would I even have made sense if I couldn't even understand my own words because of my mumbling tendency? "She measured you, of course. That is the way of the world." He seemed to remember something else. "And don't worry. If anyone had to change or bathe you, I went out of the room." Saying those words however, made a slight pink tinge crawl over his cheeks. And over mine.

"I….I…." I searched for the words, trying to find some other way I could distract him. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Distract me all you want," he murmured. "I'll patiently wait before springing you."

"A-Alright," I huffed. He'd seen through my ploy. "I g-give up. Sp-spring it th-then."

He didn't start right away. Outside, the skies were dark purple, no sign of lightening any time soon. The air conditioner in Ian's room hummed, churning forth cold wisps of air. The silence between us was like a barrier, protecting me for the time being. I rested my head on my knees, contemplating the turn of events.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, out of the blue, eyeing my position with visible concern. My heart leapt, then began beating faster. It meant he was ready to talk to me now. Ready to speak his mind. Only…was _I _ready for this? Ready to listen? Ready to know what all these feelings meant?

"Y-Yeah…"I replied. "What d-d-does it matter a-anyway?" I avoided his suddenly tender gaze.

"Anything that concerns you and _you _matter to me," he answered sincerely, looking deeply into my eyes, even though I tried to look away. Undaunted, he held my face firmly in place. And all I could see were his amber eyes, deeply troubled, pleading, emotional. His face, flawless, and somehow etched in my heart. This was another side to Ian I'd never seen before. A side that was vulnerable, yet gentle, a side that could sympathize and feel.

Two sides. Two cores. Making him one. The Ian I knew…I understood.

"What is th-that s-s-supposed to m-mean?" I was looking straight into his soul, and what I saw unnerved me. The depth of those feelings…the pleas of his heart…the person he really was.

"You don't understand do you?" he said sadly, a frown in his eyes. He sighed. "You still don't believe me. You still don't trust me. I don't really deserve your trust…but still…I want it anyway."

"…I-Ian?" This attitude and poignant melancholy cut through me, confused me. My heart beat faster, my breathing hitched. His face seemed to be coming closer…

And before I knew it, his lips were covering mine.

This wasn't a mere brushing of lips, a simple contact that left a promise…It was a real one.

And it awakened something locked away deep inside me.

He pulled away after an increasingly tense second. The temperature was now at fifty degrees. I was sure my cheeks were aflame. His eyes were embarrassed, begging for my forgiveness, yet somehow not contrite, as if his action was justified.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly in his velvet voice, caressing the words. "But I had to do it, you see." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It was the only chance I'd ever have. The only chance…in this lifetime and beyond. I love you, Amy. You won't believe me, but it's true. I love you…enough to let you go. Enough to let you be free. And more than enough to always be there to catch you when you fall, save you in when you need it, be a shoulder for you to cry on…even as just a friend. Even if it hurts, I'll take. It's better than nothing." He smiled at me, a smile that seemed sad. "And seeing you smile is happiness enough."

My heart pounded. My blood pulsed. With every second, every minute, every hour, life flowed through me. Life moved on. Life beat against my chest. It was a force greater than any other. But there was something else, something new…something I'd never experienced before. A force that was equal in power to life, if not greater. That became the path for the lost, gave structure to hw life is lived. A phenomenon not quite explained, but a phenomenon all the same. As I looked at him, truly saw everything, the world seemed to tilt at my feet at his words…I felt something I'd never felt before. Something that had seemed impossible to obtain, to gain, to claim as mine in this world. Something that brought a sun, shining brightly in my life…

And that was when I knew I'd really, truly, and not-just-platonically fallen in love. The kind of love that pushes you off the driver's seat even if you were completely in control, takes you down a different road that suddenly becomes the right one. The kind that makes completely no sense but to you it does. The kind that's bittersweet, forbidden yet taken, shimmering with truth and honesty and loves you back. The kind that's wholehearted and pure, ready to risk anything, but doesn't want to leave your side at the same time, yet lets you go. The kind that would hurt if you hurt, smile if you smile, cry if you cry, feel everything you feel. The kind that isn't always popular, but to you it is. The kind that feels wrong, but somehow feels right. The kind…that shows you what loving is all about, with its ups and downs, happiness and sorrow, but with the person who you love and loves you back by your side, ready to weather it all. The kind you can't completely understand, but somehow, deep inside, you do. The kind you'll choose above everything else…and yet give you all that you've lost back…

Without thinking about it, relying only on instinct, I hugged him, shocking Ian and, a moment later, myself. I buried my suddenly burning face deep in his chest, afraid to see what his reaction would be.

"Amy…?" he whispered, unsure what this was supposed to mean. But something told him…He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me closer to him. And I wasn't scared. Not at all. Not even a tiny bit embarrassed…not anymore.

_This _felt right. _This _was true. Real. I could feel it all, not like it was just some intoxicating hallucination conjured by my delusional mind.

He raised my head, and I could see the glow that radiated from him. Could see the _love_ shining from him, rays that reached and touched me too.

"Silly girl," he murmured, and brought my lips to his. Outside, the sun came up, time again had called for its rebirth, coloring the dark skies pink, orange, red, yellow…

_Is this a dream?_

_If it is_

_Please don't wake me from this high_

_I'd become comfortably numb_

_Until you opened up my eyes_

_To what it's like_

_When everything's right_

_I can't believe_

_You found me_

_When no one else was lookin'_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_Yeah, you broke through_

_All of my confusion_

_The ups and the downs_

_And you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me_

_You found me_

_So, here we are_

_That's pretty far_

_When you think of where we've been_

_No going back_

_I'm fading out_

_All that has faded me within_

_You're by my side_

_Now everything's fine_

_I can't believe_

_You found me_

_When no one else was lookin'_

_How did you know just where I would be?_

_Yeah, you broke through_

_All of my confusion_

_The ups and the downs_

_And you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me_

_You found me_

******

_**Whoah…two kisses in one chapter…EEEK!!!!!!**_

_**So today I bring this love story to an end…and hope that you have enjoyed the ride…thanks for the support, the review, the critiques. I did my best to make this, all of this, **__**every bit**__** perfect for all of you=) I appreciate your effort, trying to fulfill last chapter's quota, but you didn't have to believe it ^^ I was merely buying some time in order to make this perfect in every way possible. And, though I didn't get 15 reviews, I shall still post this as a reward, along with virtual cookies for all of you. YAY!**_

_**I might write a sequel. But for now, I have two other stories out there: Queen Of The World Diaries and Why. Queen of the World is Natalie's diary and thoughts. Why is a prequel to Bleeding Hearts. **_

_**Thank you---all of you, everyone, a million times! Stories are meant for people to feel the magic of fantasy, and, most importantly, dreams that can come true with enough perseverance and imagination.**_

_**I LOVE YOU ALL! And Paite-chan, I'll forgive you for not updating THE GREAT CAHILL RACE any time soon because you're working.**_

_**XOXO=)**_

_**With love,**_

_**Troubadour12 a.k.a Vicah =)**_


	18. Author's Note 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Sorry to get your hopes up, but no, this isn't a new chapter. You know better than that. After all, its sequel, A Rose's Thorns, is out there.

But I just really, really have to thank all my readers for the support they gave Bleeding Hearts. I am also grateful to those who nominated it for the awards. So far, it has been nominated for: Best Use of Original Characters, Best Use of New Characters, Most Likely To Sell Out In A Bookstore, Ian I'd Like as a Boyfriend (really? ^_^), Best Ian and Amy Fic, and Best Romance.

It may not actually _win, _but the very fact that it has been nominated is enough. I don't really care for an award; what I do care for though, is that my stories would leave an impression on others, and not just be another of those silly, forgettable little romances which were popular when they were hot off the skillet. In fact, I was expecting you to forget about it sooner or later, since it's pretty ancient now, considering. But I guess some people still remembered.

So...I think that's all?

Thanks a million times,

~troubadour12~


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